Twilight: Rewritten
by Magic Within Us
Summary: A humorous, slightly twisted take on Twilight.
1. Chapter 1

_I own nothing, this is fan work. Some of this is taken directly, word for word, from the book, but quite a lot of it is my own words. I intend to stay as close to the plot as possible, while simply writing my own take on the character of Bella Swan, everyone's favorite clumsy literary geek. This is not intended to be taken seriously, but I hope I can make someone smile with it, and perhaps brighten a day or get a laugh._

I'd never really thought about how I would die. Does anyone, really? That's not something you really want to think about, even if you're the morbid, melodramatic type, like me. These last few months had certainly given me plenty of new ways to envision my demise, but I'm not sure that I pictured it working out quite like this.

I stared without breathing- my breath was lodged in my throat somewhere- across the long room, into the dark eyes of the man who was going to murder me, and he looked pleasantly back at me.

Okay, this was a really sucky way to die. Noble, yes, but it was probably going to be horribly painful and agonizingly slow, and the points in the afterlife I would most likely score for my heroic death were not going to make up for that.

I knew that if I'd never gone to Forks, I wouldn't be facing a psychopath right now. And being terrified at the moment, I was really starting to regret that decision. Living a beautiful nightmare didn't make the nightmare any less horrifying.

The hunter smiled in a friendly way as he sauntered forward to kill me.

Yep, I was going to die, and it was going to hurt.

**1. First Sight**

Mom drove me to the airport with the windows rolled down. It was seventy-five degrees in Phoenix, the sky blue and cloudless; not that unusual for Arizona, but now I was really appreciating it. I was wearing my favorite shirt- sleeveless, white eyelet lace, as a sort of farewell gesture. My carry on item was the one parka in my possession.

In the Olympic Peninsula of northwest Washington State, a small town named Forks exists. You probably haven't heard of it. I wish I'd never heard of it. It's always cloudy there, and I mean _always_. It rains in Forks more than anywhere else in the United States of America, and the place is about as cheerful as a funeral. It screams gloom and cold, wet, misery. My mom and I left it and my dad when I was only a few months old. Unfortunately, I was stuck there every summer "building a relationship" with my dad until I was fourteen, when I threw a fit and made Charlie, which seems to suit my dad better than "Dad", spend the summer vacation with me in California instead. It was nice, until this year, when I realized I was heading back to Forks.

God, I hated the place.

Phoenix was my home, under the hot sun, in the sprawling, wonderfully _alive _city, with Mom. It was where I belonged, but now I had to leave.

"Bella," my mom said to me- the last of a thousand times- before I got on the plane. "You don't have to do this."

_You're right, Mom, I don't have to do this, but the only other option is going with you and Phil, so I really don't have much of a choice here_, I wanted to snap back at her, for the last of a thousand times, but just like all the previous times, I kept my mouth shut.

Mom and I look almost exactly alike, except her hair is short and she's got laugh lines. I don't really laugh much. I felt a jolt of resentment as I stared at her wide, childlike eyes. She'd always been like this. Harebrained, erratic, not very dependable, and honestly a bit of a naïve ditz. Don't get me wrong, she's a very loving person, and one of the most open, genuine people I know, and I would do anything for her; she's my mom, after all… But she didn't know how to fend for herself. Never had. I don't know how she survived as a single mom when I was little and couldn't, you know, make sure she paid our bills and remembered to buy food and get gas, and be there for her to call when she got lost. Normal kid stuff, right? Ha. I'd always been more like a mother than she was.

I tried not to get too annoyed about it, since she was so innocent that it was hard to get aggravated with her, but for once, just once, I wanted a chance to be the carefree one. I'd never really gotten it. Mom never worried about anything, so I'd always had to. But she had Phil now, and someone to take care of her other than me. I had to trust that she'd survive. I felt like a mother bird, kicking her young out of the nest. _Fly little bird, fly! _I found myself wanting to scream at her, but airport security might not take too kindly to that, so I refrained.

"I want to go," I muttered unconvincingly instead, after probably creeping her out by staring at her with a strange expression for a few moments before replying. I was such a bad liar, and we both knew it, but she didn't push the issue, which made me both grateful and irritated at the same time. She should be trying to force me to stay with her, shouldn't she? Why did I have to be the one sacrificing my happiness here? I was only seventeen! And now my life would be over, because I'd be stuck in some sunshine forsaken small town in Washington for the rest of my life. Well, until college, in two years, but two years seemed like ages right now.

"Tell Charlie I said hi." she said, and I tried not to roll my eyes.

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," she insisted, but I knew that wasn't true. There'd been a choice to make, and I'd stepped aside, like the good daughter I'd always been, and let her choose Phil instead of me. "You can come home whenever you want- I'll come right back as soon as you need me." The thing was, I didn't need her. I'd be fine without her, as painful as it was to admit. I'd learned how to manage on my own a long time ago, and though I'd miss her, I'd never need her. Not the way a teenage girl should need her mother, anyways.

"Don't worry about me," I said quietly, acting like this was no big deal, just me moving states away, to leave the place I'd grown up in, forever. "It'll be great." Another bad lie. This was going to be so bad, and I was cringing mentally at just the thought of Forks, but I was going to have to put on a happy face for Mom. "I love you, Mom." That bit, at least, was honest. I did love Mom. I always would. We hugged for a minute, her squeezing much more tightly than me, and I awkwardly patted her back, and then I got on the plane and she was gone.

It's a four hour flight from Phoenix to Seattle, another hour in a small plane up to Port Angeles, and then an hour drive back to Forks. Flying doesn't bother me; the hour in the car in the car with Charlie, though, I was worried about. My dad had been pretty great about the whole thing, and he seemed actually pleased that I was coming to live with him permanently, for the first time, but I knew things were going to be unbearably awkward for a while. I was glad he'd registered me for high school already, and was going to help me get a car, but we were both reserved and quiet, and he didn't get why I was moving up to Forks in the first place. I'd always complained about the place, after all. It was like my own personal level of hell. Or maybe purgatory. At least a level of hell might be exciting. Forks was about as exciting as dry toast.

When I landed in Port Angeles, it was raining. Shocker, I know. I resigned myself to never seeing the sun again. It felt like I was in some dank prison already. Charlie was waiting for me with the cruiser- even more fitting. After all, he is Police Chief Swan to every hick in Forks. I really wanted a car, even though I was broke, because I was _not _going to be driven around in a cop car with little blinking red and blue lights, bringing traffic everywhere to a standstill.

Charlie gave me a one armed hug just as awkward as my own when I stumbled my way off the plane, giving me a temporary sense of kinship. My dad would always make me look like a little social butterfly, because as socially inept as I was, he was a hundred times worse.

"It's good to see you, Bells," he said, smiling as he automatically caught and steadied me. "You haven't changed much." I wasn't sure whether that was intended as a compliment or a simple observation, and decided I didn't care. "How's Renée?"

_Running off into the sunset with Phil while she leaves me to my fate_, I wanted to say, but instead I just smiled. "Mom's fine. It's good to see you too, Dad." I wasn't allowed to call him Charlie to his face, though maybe one day I'd decide to get a little rebellious and would. Le gasp.

I only had a few bags. Most of my Arizona clothes would leave me with frostbite in Washington. Mom and I had pooled our resources to buy me some actual winter clothes, but my wardrobe was still scanty. Take my one parka, for example. It all fit easily into the trunk of the cruiser.

"I found a good car for you, really cheap," he announced when we were strapped in. Oh, dear lord. It was probably some old clunker, a fiery explosion waiting to happen.

"What kind of car?" I asked, trying to keep the _you're trying to kill your only child, aren't you_ suspicion out of my voice.

"Well, it's a truck actually, a Chevy." Lovely. Even better. I always wanted to summon my inner hillbilly while driving the streets of Forks.

"Where did you find it?" I questioned slowly. Seriously, where? The dump?

"Do you remember Billy Black down at La Push?"

La Push is the tiny Indian reservation at the coast, so no; I didn't really remember it, or him.

"No." I replied flatly.

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer," Charlie prompted.

Yeah, that would explain why I didn't remember him. I'm pretty good at blocking the worst moments of my entire life from my memory.

"He's in a wheelchair now," Charlie continued when I didn't respond; my face probably said it all, "so he can't drive anymore, and he offered to sell me his truck cheap."

Why did he trust the word of someone who _could no longer drive_?! That truck could have the brakes removed! I didn't even remember this guy!

"What year is it?" I could see from his change of expression that this was the question  
he was hoping I wouldn't ask. Well, there was no getting out of this interrogation, Chief.

"Well, Billy's done a lot of work on the engine- it's only a few years old, really." Yeah, _sure_. How stupid did he think I was? I wasn't exactly a genius but I was no oblivious Renée, either. I hoped he didn't think so little of me as to believe I would give up that easily.

"When did he buy it?" I demanded, trying and failing to not sound completely exasperated.

"He bought it in 1984, I think." Of course. Of course he did.

"Did he buy it new?"

"Well, no. I think it was new in the early sixties- or late fifties at the earliest," he  
admitted sheepishly.

My god, my dad really was trying to kill me and make it look like mechanical failure.

"Ch- Dad, I don't really know anything about cars. I wouldn't be able to fix it if  
anything went wrong, and I couldn't afford a mechanic..." I moaned, trying not to slam my head into the windshield and put an end to this ill fated discussion right here and now.

"Really, Bella, the thing runs great. They don't build them like that anymore."

The thing, I thought to myself... it had possibilities- as a nickname, at the very least. Like something out a bad horror flick.

"How cheap is cheap?" After all, that was the part I couldn't compromise on. I might be whining now, but I really couldn't afford a Lexus at this point.

"Well, honey, I kind of already bought it for you. As a homecoming gift." Charlie  
peeked sideways at me with a hopeful expression.

Wow. Free. I hadn't been expecting that at all. In spite of my frustration with him, I felt sort of warm and happy inside. Mom had rarely done anything like that for me, and I knew she never would have gone and bought me a car, even if it _was_ old and crappy.

"You didn't need to do that, Dad. I was going to buy myself a car." I mumbled, but I couldn't stop the tiny half smile from sneaking onto my face.

"I don't mind. I want you to be happy here." He was looking ahead at the road when he said this. Charlie wasn't comfortable with expressing his emotions out loud. I inherited  
that from him, so I kept my eyes on the road too as I responded as earnestly as possible.

"That's really nice, Dad. Thanks. I… I appreciate it a lot." I said hesitantly, trying not to look at him and make him even more embarrassed. He was already flushing red, just like I did when I felt self conscious. It was beginning to occur to me that we had a lot more in common that either of us had ever realized.

"Well, now, you're welcome," it was his turn to mumble.

I doubted I'd ever be happy in Forks, but maybe I'd be okay. Our conversation pretty much went extinct right then and there, after a few comments about the weather, which was as wet as it ever was, and then I realized just how green everything was in Forks and immediately retracted my previous hopeful thought. Yeah, nope, I was recalling just why I hated this place. It might have been beautiful to some people. To me it was just like the landscape had been drenched in pea soup and left to rot. Every tree was covered in slick moss, every inch of ground was covered in tall ferns. Even the freaking air looked greenish, as if the whole area was about to start vomiting. Way too much of one awful color.

Eventually, we made it to Charlie's. He still lived in the small, two-bedroom house that he'd bought with Mom in the early days of their marriage. Those were the only kind of days their marriage had- the early ones. There, parked on the street in front of the house that never changed, was my new- well, new to me- truck. It was a faded red color, with big, rounded fenders and a bulbous cab. To my intense surprise, I loved it. It was cute, in that horribly malformed way, and it actually looked like something I might drive, even though it wasn't what I would call "classy" or "sharp". I still had my doubts about how it would run, but I was willing to let my inner girly girl squeal over how adorable it was for now. Plus, it was one of those solid iron affairs that never gets damaged- the kind you see at the scene of an accident, paint unscratched, surrounded by the pieces of the foreign car it had destroyed.

"I love it Dad," I said honestly, and gave him a rare grin. _You done good, Charlie_.

Now I wouldn't have to walk to school tomorrow, or die of embarrassment when my cop dad drove me there in his obnoxious cruiser.

"I'm glad you like it," Charlie said gruffly, embarrassed again.

It took only one trip to get all my stuff upstairs, thank goodness. I got the west bedroom that faced out over the front yard; not that there was much to see. The room was familiar; it had been belonged to me since I was born. The wooden floor, the light blue walls, the peaked ceiling, the yellowed lace curtains around the window- these were all a part of my childhood. The only changes Charlie had ever made were switching the crib for a bed and adding a desk as I grew. The desk now held a secondhand computer, with the phone line for the modem stapled along the floor to the nearest phone jack. This was a stipulation from Mom, so that we could "stay in touch easily". The rocking chair from my baby days was still in the corner. I didn't know if I'd ever be rocking in it, as I was no longer a baby, but whatever.

There was only one small bathroom at the top of the stairs, which I would have to share with Charlie. I was trying not to dwell too much on that fact. The horror of having to share a bathroom with your middle aged father is something no girl should have to go through, ever. I wouldn't be able to leave any of my things in there, unless I wanted to make things even more uncomfortable.

One of the best things about Charlie is he doesn't hover. He's every teenager's dream dad in that aspect. He knows when to go away. He left me alone to unpack and get settled, a feat that would have been altogether impossible for my mom. It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and fake joy about moving here. I was happy about my truck and that was about it. Everything else… well, this was like one bad dream. I just wanted to wake up and be back in Phoenix, but reality had sunken in. I was in Forks. I was never going back. I'd be starting at a new high school tomorrow morning, where I would know a grand total of… no one. I hadn't exactly been Miss Popular back in Phoenix- I had the looks but not the personality, and my friends were few and we were never very close. I had difficulties opening up to people, and I usually found kids my age shallow and immature, when I felt like I'd been an adult for such a long time already. Sure, I whined and got moody just like everyone else, but I was more withdrawn about how I was feeling, or at least I tried to be. It was a defense mechanism. I usually ended up annoyed with my classmates when they were just acting like regular teenagers. I was the weird one, but I hated to admit it. I liked schoolwork, and I knew I was smart, but I didn't like to show off about it, and I rarely ever spoke up or raised my hand in class. That had been in a high school of two thousand students.

Forks High School had an intimidating total of only three hundred and fifty-seven- nowfifty-eight- students; there were more than seven hundred people in my junior class alone back home. All of the kids here had grown up together- their grandparents had been freaking toddlers together. I would be the new girl from the big city, a curiosity, a freak. Maybe, if I looked like a girl from Phoenix should, I could work this to my advantage. But physically, I'd never fit in anywhere. I should be tan, sporty, blond- a volleyball player, or a cheerleader, all the things that go with living in a place like Arizona, where it was just the blue sky and the blazing sun.

Instead I was a pale, brown eyed brunette, petite but not tiny, slender but not skinny or athletic. I was extremely clumsy, and gym class never failed to make a laughingstock. I had very little curves. I knew I was pretty; there was no denying it. I had clear skin and doe eyes, but I wasn't a stunner or the type of girl who regularly made heads turn. Not in Phoenix, anyways.

I contemplated all of this while brushing my hair, which was by now a damp, vaguely mossy smelling tangled mess, in front of the mirror in the "shared bathroom". I looked like I was dying or something, and it wasn't just the sour look on my face. I was definitely going to stand out tomorrow. The teens of Forks were probably all whispering to each other about how Chief Swan's mysterious daughter would be starting school tomorrow. Good grief, I'd probably be parting the halls like Moses with the Red Sea.

I cringed at the thought and spent the rest of the night alternating between pacing my bedroom, which was starting to feel like a padded cell, going online, and reading. I fretted and worried until I fell into a fitful sleep. I was constantly awoken by the damn wind and rain, which I was already sick of, and the way the wind rattled the shingles on the house and the way the rain tapped incessantly on the rood. I huddled under the faded old quilt and then under my pillow as well, and finally, after midnight, the rain became a drizzle and the wind settled down.

Thick fog was all I could see out my window by morning. It made me feel restless, like I wanted to outrun it, and mildly claustrophobic. It was unsettling. It was rarely foggy in Phoenix. Breakfast with Charlie was a quiet event, which I didn't really mind. I felt queasy in an anxious way, and questions and comments, like the ones my mom was so fond of, would probably have freaked me out even more. He wished me good luck in school. I thanked him in a dismal, _all hope is lost_ tone. It was going to be awful. Charlie left first, off to the station, which I swear he was married to now, not that I particularly cared. At least he hadn't insisted on driving me on my first day or following me in the cruiser to school or something. A police escort was the last thing I needed right now.

I sat in the kitchen for a few minutes and just stared at everything. The square oak table I was sitting at, with its three unmatched chairs, the dark paneled walls, the obnoxiously bright yellow cabinets, the cracked white linoleum floor. Mom had painted the cabinets eighteen years ago in an attempt to bring some sunshine into the house. It had obviously not worked.

Over the small fireplace in the adjoining handkerchief-sized family room was a row of pictures. First a wedding picture of Charlie and my mom in Las Vegas, which I suspected had been Mom's idea, then one of the three of us in the hospital after I was born, taken by a helpful nurse, followed by the procession of my school pictures up to last year's. Those were embarrassing to look at- I would have to see what I could do to get Charlie to put them somewhere else, at least while I was living here. I didn't need to see myself with acne and braces and frizzy middle school hair.

It was impossible, being in this house, not to realize that Charlie had never gotten over my mom. It made me uncomfortable. She had moved on; Phil was proof of that, and she was actually serious about him, unlike previous boyfriends. Mom had never had flings, but she wasn't opposed to casual dating throughout my childhood. I never really noticed or cared. I don't even remember half of her past boyfriends now. But Charlie… he'd never gone out on any dates or been seen with any woman at all during any summer I'd stayed here, and I doubted he had the rest of the time I wasn't here either. He was still pining after her, apparently, and it was sort of weird to think about that.

I didn't want to be too early to school, but I couldn't stay in the house anymore. I donned my jacket- which had the feel of a biohazard suit- and headed out into the rain. It was just drizzling still, not enough to soak me through immediately as I reached for the house key that was always hidden under the eaves by the door, and locked up. The sloshing of my new waterproof boots was unnerving. I missed the normal crunch of gravel as I walked. I couldn't pause and admire my truck again as I wanted; I was in a hurry to get out of the misty wet that swirled around my head and clung to my hair under my hood. My naturally straight hair was going to be completely flat and limp, clinging to my neck and face, by the time I got to school.

Inside the truck, I was relieved to find that it was nice and dry. I wanted to peel off my already wet jacket and crank up the heat, but there was no point. Everything was so close together in this town that'd it probably take me under five minutes to get to the high school.

Either Billy or Charlie had obviously cleaned the truck up, but the tan upholstered seats still smelled faintly of tobacco, gasoline, and peppermint. It wasn't what I really wanted to smell as I drove, but it wasn't really a bad smell either, and at least it didn't reek. The engine started quickly, to my relief, but loudly, roaring to life and making me jump, hit my head on the ceiling, and swear, and then idling at top volume. Well, a truck this old was bound to have a flaw. No engine exploding thus far was a success. The antique radio worked, a plus that I hadn't expected. I fiddled around with the dial. It seemed Forks only had one radio station, big surprise, because other than that it played crackling static. I shrugged and turned it off.

Finding the school wasn't difficult, though I'd never been there before. The school was, like most other things, just off the highway. It was not obvious that it was a school; only the sign, which declared it to be the Forks High School, made me stop, slamming hard on the brakes, which squealed in protest. It was lucky that there was very little traffic, or I'd probably have caused quite the accident. And it would be all the high school's fault.

It looked like a collection of matching houses, built with maroon-colored bricks. There were so many trees and shrubs I couldn't see its size at first. Where was the feel of the institution? I wondered nostalgically. Where were the chain-link fences, the metal detectors? Boy, was I going to miss being patted down every month or so when my old high school did the annual check _everyone for drugs and weapons_ test, and seeing the school security guard patrolling with a hand on his gun. I honestly felt oddly vulnerable without those familiar sights, sarcasm aside. I guess I should have been relieved that the school was evidently as dangerous as a preschool playground, but it was strange to me.

I parked in front of the first building, which had a small sign over the door reading front office. No one else was parked there, so I was pretty sure it was off limits, but I decided to get directions instead of circling around in the rain like an idiot. That would be akin to spray painting "I'm the new girl" on my truck and announcing it with a loudspeaker to all who would listen.

I stepped unwillingly out of the by now toasty truck cab (I'd caved on turning up the heat as far as it would go) and walked down a little stone path lined with dark hedges. Yay. More plant life. I took a deep breath before opening the door slowly, and tried to look calm and normal as I stepped inside.

Inside, it was brightly lit, and warmer than I'd hoped. The office was small; a little waiting area with padded folding chairs, orange-flecked commercial carpet, notices and awards cluttering the walls, a big clock ticking loudly. Plants grew everywhere in large plastic pots, as if there wasn't enough greenery outside. Was everyone here obsessed with foliage? The room was cut in half by a long counter, cluttered with wire baskets full of papers and brightly colored flyers taped to its front. There were three desks behind the counter, one of which was manned by a large, red-haired woman wearing glasses. She was wearing a purple t-shirt, which immediately made me feel overdressed. I wasn't in a ball gown or anything, but I had no idea what I was expected to wear, so I'd wore some of my nicer clothes that I'd actually be warm in.

The red-haired woman looked up. "Can I help you?"

"I'm Bella Swan," I informed her, and saw the immediate awareness light her eyes. This was only the beginning, I could tell. I was expected all right. Everyone already knew my name and probably my entire history. _Parents eloped to Vegas, came back to Forks, had a kid, and were divorced within a year. The flighty ex-wife left for Arizona with the daughter, who hasn't been seen round these parts for a few years, and now the girl's home at last._

The only problem was that this would never be my home.

"Of course," she said. She dug through a precariously stacked pile of documents on her desk till she found the ones she was looking for. "I have your schedule right here, and a map of the school." She brought several sheets to the counter to show me. She went through my classes for me, highlighting the best route to each on the map, and gave me a slip to have each teacher sign, which I was to bring back at the end of the day. She smiled at me and hoped, like Charlie, that I would like it here in Forks. I smiled back as convincingly as I could, but it probably looked more like a pained grimace. I was glad she had taken the time to show me how to get to my classes, though. That would save me from having to ask someone for directions, and therefore blow my cover as just another student who totally wasn't new or anything.

When I went back out to my truck, other students were starting to arrive. I drove around the school, following the line of traffic. I was glad to see that most of the cars were older like mine, nothing flashy. At home I'd lived in one of the few lower-income neighborhoods that were included in the Paradise Valley District. It was a common thing to see a new Mercedes or Porsche in the student lot. I'd walked to school every day, since it was only about ten minutes by foot and the weather was always nice. I liked walking. I could just listen to my iPod and be alone. The school bus had always been horrifying for me, and I never felt like getting my mom to drive me.

The nicest car here was a shiny Volvo, and it stood out. It probably belonged to the one kid from an upper class family in town, and they probably flaunted that car like it was a Jaguar. I cut the engine as soon as I was in a spot, so that the thunderous volume wouldn't draw attention to me. I looked at the map in the truck, trying to memorize it now; hopefully I wouldn't have to walk around with it stuck in front of my nose all day. I stuffed everything in my bag, slung the strap over my shoulder, and sucked in a huge breath. I can do this, I lied to myself feebly. I just had to keep my head down yet somehow not come off as an antisocial loner freak. It'd be easy. I finally exhaled and stepped out of the truck.

I kept my face pulled back into my hood as I walked to the sidewalk, crowded with teenagers. My plain black jacket didn't stand out, I noticed with relief. _Good, good_, I almost felt like cackling maniacally. Everything was going according to plan. Once I got around the cafeteria, building three was easy to spot. A large black "3" was painted on a white square on the east corner. I felt my breathing gradually creeping toward hyperventilation as I approached the door. Where was a paper bag when you needed one?

I tried holding my breath as I followed two unisex raincoats through the door. The classroom was small. The people in front of me stopped just inside the door to hang up their coats on a long row of hooks. I copied them. They were two girls, one a porcelain-colored blonde, the other also pale, with light brown hair. At least my skin wouldn't be a standout here. Another win.

I took the slip up to the teacher, a tall, balding man whose desk had a nameplate identifying him as Mr. Mason. He gawked at me when he saw my name- not an encouraging response- and of course I flushed tomato red. He was cramping my style of going unnoticed until people forgot there was supposed to be a new girl and thought I'd always been here. But at least he sent me to an empty desk at the back without introducing me to the class. It was harder for my new classmates to stare at me in the back, but somehow, they managed. I kept my eyes down on the reading list the teacher had given me, so I wouldn't be tempted to something irrational and childish like stick my tongue out or flip them off. It was fairly basic: Bronte, Shakespeare, Chaucer, Faulkner. I'd already read everything, to my dismay. Hey, it's not my fault I'm a literary nerd. Books are easier for me to relate to then people.

I wondered if my mom would send me my folder of old essays, or if she would think that was cheating. Would she even care? Because if I could get out of ever having to write anything for this class, I'd be thrilled. I liked reading, but I wasn't as fond of writing, especially for school assignments. I was good at it, but I didn't enjoy it as much as just reading good old fiction. I went through different arguments with her in my head while the teacher droned on.

When the bell rang, a nasal buzzing sound that made me purse my lips in distaste, a gangly boy with skin problems and hair black as an oil slick leaned across the aisle to talk to me. Oh boy, here we go.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?" He looked like the overly helpful, chess club type, but it could have been worse. He could have been some dumb jock looking to hit on the new chick. Maybe we could find some common ground. I didn't play chess, and I couldn't empathize with his acne problems, but he seemed smart, at least.

"Bella," I corrected as gently and quietly as possible, trying to not sound like an uptight snob. Everyone within a three-seat radius turned to look at me. I burned scarlet.

"Where's your next class?" he asked.

I had to check in my bag, to my embarrassment. "Um, Government, with Jefferson, in building six."

There was nowhere to look without meeting curious eyes.

"I'm headed toward building four, I could show you the way..." Definitely over-helpful, but seemed nice. "I'm Eric," he added.

I smiled tentatively. I could probably find it fine on my own, but he had offered, and I wasn't going to be a bitch and turn him down. "Thanks."

We got our jackets and headed out into the rain, which had picked up. I could have sworn several people behind us were walking close enough to eavesdrop. I hoped I wasn't getting paranoid, and tried not to continuously glance back at them.

"So, this is a lot different than Phoenix, huh?" he asked.

"Very." I said more shortly than I intended to sound. I really, really didn't want to think about Phoenix right now. It would just make me more homesick.

"It doesn't rain much there, does it?"

I was reconsidering that "he seemed smart" judgment.

"Three or four times a year." I said dully. What; was I Wikipedia now? Couldn't he just go home and Google that, if he was so curious? I knew he was probably just trying to be friendly and make small talk, but this conversation was not what I'd call mutually beneficial.

"Wow, what must that be like?" he wondered.

"Sunny," I told him, unable to keep the dryness out of my tone this time. Dear lord, maybe he was part of the weather club instead.

"You don't look very tan."

To avoid glaring at him for bringing up my sallow complexion, I focused on his pimples and wondered if he knew what Proactive was.

"My mother is part albino." I intoned, unable to keep a wry smirk off my face for a moment.

He studied my face apprehensively, and I sighed. It looked like clouds and a sense of humor didn't mix. A few months of this and I'd forget how to use sarcasm, and then I was pretty sure I'd be suicidal. I'd never survive without it.

We walked back around the cafeteria, to the south buildings by the gym. Eric walked me right to the door, though it was clearly marked. "Well, good luck," he said as I touched the handle. "Maybe we'll have some other classes together." He sounded hopeful. I wasn't. I smiled at him vaguely and went inside.

God, what a drip. And this was coming from _me_. I didn't want to be arrogant or vain, but I was pretty sure he already had a crush on me already, most likely because I was new, and the closest thing this town had had to exciting since, I don't know, they got TVs or something. Maybe I could scare him off by pretending to be insane. I already had the paranoid bit down. Nah, that would probably just make me even more alluring to him. He obviously wanted to err on the reckless side by trying and failing to chat up the new girl. He wasn't a dumb jock, just a dumb nerd. I could only hope it had been a dare or something.

The rest of the morning passed in about the same fashion. My Trigonometry teacher, Mr. Varner, who I would have hated anyway just because of the subject he taught, was the only one who made me stand in front of the class and introduce myself. Asshole. I stammered, blushed, and tripped over my own boots on the way to my seat. After two classes, I started to recognize several of the faces in each class. There was always someone braver than the others who would introduce themselves and ask me questions about how I was liking Forks. I tried to be diplomatic, but mostly I just lied a lot, about everything. At least I never needed the stupid map.

One girl sat next to me in both Trig and Spanish, and she walked with me to the cafeteria for lunch. She was tiny, several inches shorter than my five feet four inches, but her wildly curly dark hair made up a lot of the difference between our heights. I couldn't remember her name, so I smiled and nodded as she prattled about teachers and classes. She seemed cheery enough, and I was kind of glad she left no rooms for replies with her chatter, because then I didn't have to think of any. I didn't really try to keep up with her fast paced walk, but I didn't try to ditch her either, since we were going to the same place.

We sat at the end of a full table with several of her friends, who she introduced to me. I forgot all their names as soon as she spoke them, unfortunately. They seemed impressed by her bravery in speaking to me. I wasn't, but apparently my new classmates were regarding me as an exotic zoo animal that everyone was a little wary of, lest I rip their faces off or something. The boy from English, Eric, waved at me from across the room. I averted my eyes and pretended I hadn't seen him.

It was there, sitting in the lunchroom, trying to make polite, normal conversation with seven curious strangers, that I first saw them. They were sitting in the corner of the cafeteria, as far away from where I sat as possible in the long room. There were five of them. They weren't talking, and they weren't eating, though they each had a tray of untouched food in front of them. Okay, that was a little strange. Even I was eating, and it was my first day as a freak show at a new school. They weren't gawking at me, unlike most of the other students, so it was safe to stare at them without fear of meeting an excessively interested pair of eyes. Thank God.

But it was none of these things that caught, and held, my attention. They didn't look anything alike. Of the three boys, one was big- muscled like a serious weight lifter, or a football linebacker, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond, sort of a farm boy look to him. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish, a more young look to his face, than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students. They looked older than him, but since he looked about my age, they couldn't have been older than seniors.

The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had one of those perfect, hourglass, yet still curvy figures, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. She looked like the Queen Bee type, but in the more regal, natural way, not shallow and artificial with fake extensions and too much makeup. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. A real life hometown beauty queen or whatever they were called. She could be a famous actress or model, just with those looks alone.

The short girl was pixie-like, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. If she was any slighter I would have thought she suffered from sort of eating disorder. Was that why she wasn't eating anything? But what about the rest of them? She had an almost elfin look to her, like a little fairy creature, or something. There was no denying she was strange looking, but she seemed effortlessly confident in her own skin, no trace of shyness or anxiety in her body language.

And yet, they were all exactly alike. Every one of them was chalky pale, the palest of everyone in this green-infested, wet, dark, cloudy town, even me. I was pale, fair skinned, whatever you wanted to call it. They were _white_, like the moon or snow or something ridiculously poetic like that. I wasn't the "albino" in town, compared to them. I was positively tanned, swarthy, olive-skinned in comparison to the "skin as white as snow" thing they had going on. Did they all powder themselves or something? But the thing was, that it looked completely natural, on them. If their skin tone wasn't real, they had done a damn good job of making it _look_ real.

They all had dark, dark eyes too, even though they were brunettes and blondes and a ginger. Their eyes had shadows under them, like they were hungover or going through withdrawal or something. What had they been doing last night? They didn't look like the sort of teens to stay up late and drink or party or do anything like that. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they were all at the top of their classes. Their appearances were all carefully put together, impeccably neat, not a hair out of place or a wrinkle in their clothes. All their features were sharp, crisp, and angular, as if each had been magnified as best as possible.

All in all, they were… odd. I wanted to say beautiful, which was probably true- they were all very good looking, in their own way, but it was just… Something was off about them, and it was driving me crazy. I couldn't figure out what it was. How pale they were, the shadows under their eyes, the fact that none of them were eating or speaking to one another or staring at me, the new girl whom everyone else seemed to be temporarily obsessed with? That was why I stared at them, trying to put my finger on what made them different than everyone else, so different that it seemed like they were in their own little secluded world, as if the rest of the student body didn't even exist.

Well, maybe they were just the town snobs. Everyone else was nosy and somewhat annoying, but at least they were friendly. I didn't want to admit it, but people at my old school never would have acted like that with a newcomer, and not just because a newcomer would go unnoticed with all the students. They stayed within their own cliques. Here, there didn't really seem to be many cliques. Everyone knew everyone, and I didn't see any tensions between different groups of friends. Of course they couldn't all be one big, happy, family, but no one seemed to actively dislike anyone else, either.

As I watched, the small girl rose with her tray- unopened soda, unbitten apple- and walked away with a quick, graceful lope that belonged on a runway. Even though she had very short legs, she practically pranced across the room like she was on America's Next Top Model. I watched, amazed at her lithe dancer's step, till she dumped her tray and glided through the back door, faster than I would have thought possible. I would have tripped or slipped on the smooth lunch room floor at least twice doing that. I always walked, no matter where I was, at a slow and steady pace, carefully making sure I kept putting one foot firmly in front of the other, especially when there were other people around. I'd done the Cafeteria Floor Fall and the Staircase Stumble too many times to count.

My eyes darted back to the other, who remained unchanging, as if they hadn't even noticed Small and Sprightly had hopped out of her seat like a bunny and danced off.

"Who are they?" I asked the girl from my Spanish class. As she looked up to see who I meant- though already knowing, probably, from my tone- suddenly he looked at her, the thinner one; the boyish one with the reddish brownish gingery hair. He looked at my neighbor for just a fraction of a second, and then his dark eyes flickered to mine. He looked away quickly, more quickly than I could, though in a flush of embarrassment I dropped my eyes at once. Had he heard me? How could he have? He was all the way across the lunch room! He must have seen me staring at him and his… companions, and then ask her something, and figured I was asking about them. Pretty clever of him. In that brief flash of a glance, his face held nothing of interest- it was as if she had called his name, and he'd looked up in involuntary response, already having decided not to answer.

Oh, yeah. Totally a snob. I'd bet anything he or one of the others owned the flashy Volvo in the parking lot. They screamed wealthy, from their mannerisms to their obviously high end, expensive clothing.

My neighbor giggled in embarrassment, looking at the table like I did. "That's Edward and Emmett Cullen, and Rosalie and Jasper Hale. The one who left was Alice Cullen; they all live together with Dr. Cullen and his wife." She said this under her breath. What, did they really have super hearing?

I glanced sideways at the arrogant boy, who was looking at his tray now, picking a bagel to pieces with long, pale fingers. What a waste of food. I bit down into my apple spitefully. There were people starving in third world countries. I, for one, was not going to pick apart my meal like a sullen child. His mouth was moving very quickly, his lips barely opening. The other three still looked away, and yet I felt he was speaking quietly to them. I could almost hear the cold, haughty voice he probably had in my mind.

They had strange, unpopular names, I thought. The kinds of names grandparents had. But maybe that was in vogue here- small town names? I finally remembered that my neighbor was called Jessica, a perfectly common name. There were two girls named Jessica in my History class back home. Even my name, Isabella, wasn't uncommon. I'd known one in elementary and one in middle school. It was part of the reason why I went by Bella, so i wouldn't have to be Isabella S. or some juvenile nonsense like that. The other part of the reason I had a nickname was because the name didn't seem to suit me. It was too long, too elegant. I didn't feel like I fit into it any more than I felt I fit into my own skin.

"They're… pretty." I struggled with the conspicuous understatement. I didn't know how else to describe them. I'd never been one to throw out compliments left and right, and I'd never called boys pretty, but I was pretty sure the Cullen and Hale boys had their pictures besides the term "pretty boy" in the dictionary.

"Yes!" Jessica agreed with another giggle. I could tell the constant tee-heeing was going to get on my nerves soon enough. "They're all together though- Emmett and Rosalie, and Jasper and Alice, I mean. And they live together."

Her voice held all the shock and condemnation of the small town, I thought critically. But, if I was being honest, I had to admit that even in Phoenix, it would cause gossip. It wasn't incest, obviously, if they weren't really related by blood, but you usually didn't see adopted siblings or whatever they were in relationships with each other. It was a tad creepy, yeah.

"Which ones are the Cullens?" I asked. "They don't look related..."

"Oh, they're not. Dr. Cullen is really young, in his twenties or early thirties. They're all adopted. The Hales are brother and sister, twins- the blondes- and they're foster children." she explained.

"They look a little old for foster children."

"They are now, Jasper and Rosalie are both eighteen, but they've been with Mrs. Cullen since they were eight. She's their aunt or something like that."

"That's really kind of nice- for them to take care of all those kids like that, when they're so young and everything." I commented. If the adult Cullens were barely thirty, that meant they'd been caring for this bunch since they were just out of college. I'd never heard of something like that before.

"I guess so," Jessica admitted reluctantly, and I got the impression that she didn't like the doctor and his wife for some reason. With the glances she was throwing at their adopted children, I would presume the reason was jealousy.

"I think that Mrs. Cullen can't have any kids, though," she added, as if that lessened their kindness. Whoa, that was sort of a bitchy thing to say. I felt bad for the poor woman, and she had obviously decided to take children into her home when she didn't have to. A lot of people didn't even want kids at all these days, and if they adopted, they only wanted cute little babies with no issues or emotional baggage. She and her husband had gone about things a different way. I didn't want to hero worship when I didn't even know them, but that sounded pretty darn noble of them.

Throughout all this conversation, my eyes flickered again and again to the table where the strange family sat. They continued to look at the walls and not eat.

"Have they always lived in Forks?" I asked. Surely I would have noticed them on one of my summers here. Unless they vacationed during the summer, which a rich doctor's family might very well do. I could so see them on some beach, picking apart gourmet meals, staring impassively at a beautiful sunset.

"No," she said in a voice that implied it should be obvious, even to a new arrival like me. Excuse me, Miss Snippy. Ugh. I was really starting to dislike her. Her attitude was worse than mine, and I was the one who'd been forced to move here. "They just moved down two years ago from somewhere in Alaska."

I felt a surge of pity, and relief. Pity, because they didn't seem to have any friends, and they clearly needed some. Their conversation looked like the sort one had at a funeral. Awkward was too simple of a word to describe it. Relief, because no one seemed to like them, so I wouldn't be the odd one out by inadvertently saying anything, even if I seemed more tolerable of them than everyone else, or at least Jessica, aka Giggles here. If they had been at the top of the social ladder, it would have been different, but they were outsiders. I, who hadn't even been here a full day yet, was already more accepted then them. If they'd been popular and adored, I would have had to kiss up to them with everyone else. I didn't need a ton of friends, but I didn't want to be despised for getting on the popular crowd's bad side either. As I examined them, the youngest, one of the Cullens, looked up and met my gaze, this time with evident curiosity in his expression. As I looked swiftly away, it seemed to me that his gaze held some kind of unmet expectation. He was starting to freak me out a little.

"Which one is the boy with the reddish hair?" I asked plainly. I peeked at him from the corner of my eye, and he was still staring at me, but not gawking like the other students had today- he had a slightly frustrated expression. What was _with_ him? I looked down again.

"That's Edward. He's gorgeous, of course, but don't waste your time. He doesn't date. Apparently none of the girls here are good-looking enough for him." She sniffed, a clear case of sour grapes. I wondered when he'd turned her down, and wasn't surprised. No offense to Jessica, but he was just a little out of her league. And by little I meant a lot.

I bit my lip to hide my smile, which was really more like a smirk. Then I glanced at him again. His face was turned away, but I thought his cheek appeared lifted, as if he were smiling, too. My smile dropped off my face. What, had one of the stone statues sitting with cracked a joke? I highly doubted it.

After a few more minutes, the four of them left the table together. They all were noticeably graceful- even the big, brawny one. It was unsettling to watch. Had they all taken ballet or gymnastics as children? I pictured the three boys in frilly tutus and nearly snorted my milk out my nose. The one named Edward didn't look at me again as I coughed and cleared my throat.

I sat at the table with Jessica and her friends longer than I would have if I'd been sitting alone. I was anxious not to be late for class on my first day. One of my new acquaintances, who considerately reminded me that her name was Angela, had Biology II with me the next hour. We walked to class together in silence. She was shy, too. I could appreciate that. Of all the people I had met thus far, she alone seemed like someone I could really be friends with.

When we entered the classroom, Angela went to sit at a black-topped lab table exactly like the ones I was used to. She already had a neighbor. In fact, all the tables were filled but one. Next to the center aisle, I recognized Edward Cullen by his unusual hair, sitting next to that single open seat. Of course he would be the one person without a neighbor. At the start of the year they probably all rushed to find someone to sit with to avoid getting stuck having to be next to him.

As I walked down the aisle to introduce myself to the teacher and get my slip signed, I was watching him surreptitiously. Just as I passed, he suddenly went rigid in his seat. He stared at me again, meeting my eyes with the strangest expression on his face- it was hostile, furious. I looked away quickly, shocked, going red again. I stumbled over a book in the walkway and had to catch myself on the edge of a table. The girl sitting there giggled. I scowled darkly. Did every girl in this school but me titter constantly?

I'd noticed that his eyes were black- coal black. I'd never seen anyone with red hair and skin that light with such dark eyes.

Mr. Banner signed my slip and handed me a book with no nonsense about introductions. Good. I could tell we were going to get along. I liked it when people were straight forward about things. Of course, he had no choice but to send me to the one open seat in the middle of the room. I kept my eyes down as I went to sit by him, bewildered by the antagonistic stare he'd given me. What had I done to him, besides stare at him and his family all lunch long? Sure, that had probably been annoying, but I hadn't thought I'd been overly obnoxious about it, and I hadn't done anything _wrong_. I had just been curious. Just like everyone else was about me, though I liked to think I'd been subtler. I didn't look up as I set my book on the table and took my seat, but I saw his posture change from the corner of my eye. He was leaning away from me, sitting on the extreme edge of his chair and averting his face like he smelled something bad. As inconspicuously as possible, I sniffed my hair. It smelled like strawberries, the scent of my favorite shampoo. It seemed an innocent enough odor, and tasty. Strawberries were my favorite fruit. Who wouldn't want to smell like them? I wondered if he was allergic. Could you break out in hives from smelling artificial strawberries? We'd see, I supposed. I let my hair fall over my right shoulder, making a dark curtain between us, and tried to pay attention to the teacher. Unfortunately the lecture was on cellular anatomy, something I'd already studied. Apparently they learned everything at a much slower rate up here. Well, I was guaranteed to get good grades in most of my classes, at least for now. I took notes carefully anyways, something I didn't mind doing, always looking down.

I couldn't stop myself from peeking occasionally through the screen of my hair at the weirdo next to me. During the whole class, he never relaxed his stiff position on the edge of his chair, sitting as far from me as possible. I could see his hand on his left leg was clenched into a fist, tendons standing out under his pale skin. This, too, he never relaxed. He had the long sleeves of his white shirt pushed up to his elbows, and his forearm was surprisingly hard and muscular beneath his light skin. He wasn't nearly as slight as he'd looked next to his burly brother.

_Constipated?_ I felt myself wanting to ask, and nearly gave a little hysterical laugh at the thought of saying that to his face. He was setting me on edge with his behavior, eyeing me like I was a rabid animal poised to attack, while I looked at him similarly. It was impossible to concentrate with him acting like this. Come on. We weren't in middle school. I wasn't going to give him cooties. If he wasn't into girls, fine. He didn't have to act like I smelled like decaying flesh.

The class seemed to drag on longer than the others. Was it because the day was finally coming to a close, or because I was waiting for his tight fist to loosen? It never did; he continued to sit so still it looked like he wasn't breathing. What was wrong with him? Was this his normal behavior? I questioned my judgment on Jessica's bitterness at lunch today. Maybe she wasn't as resentful as I'd thought, and he was just a humungous dickwad. It couldn't have anything to do with me, unless he had gotten really, seriously offended by my curiosity. Even then, that was no excuse for how he was acting.

I peeked up at him one more time, and regretted it. He was glaring down at me again, his black eyes full of revulsion. I stared at him in complete shock. At that moment, the bell rang loudly, making me jump a little, and Edward Cullen was out of his seat. Fluidly he rose- he was much taller than I'd thought- his back to me, and he was out the door before anyone else was out of their seat.

I sat frozen in my seat, staring blankly after him. He was being a complete ass. It wasn't fair. I was _new_. It was my very first day. I knew no one. And he had to go out of his way to show his immediate hatred of me for daring to look his way a few times at lunch. I began gathering up my things slowly, trying to block the anger that filled me, for fear my eyes would tear up. For some reason, my temper was hardwired to my tear ducts. I usually cried when I was angry, a humiliating tendency. I wanted to punch him. I wanted to take one of my textbooks and break it over his stupid gingery head. I shouldn't have acted so meek and timid around him. I should have flipped my beautiful smelling hair in his face and sat up straight and smiled at him, instead of cowering next to him all class. I dug my nails into my palms and tried to calm my breathing, before I started bawling and shaking with rage at the same time.

"Aren't you Isabella Swan?" a male voice asked.

I looked up to see a cute, baby-faced boy, his pale blond hair carefully gelled into orderly spikes, smiling at me in a friendly way. _He_ obviously didn't think I smelled bad.

"Bella," I corrected him, with a tight smile. I was immensely grateful to be around someone who clearly didn't loathe me right now, but I was still trying to shake off my thoughts of Cullen.

"I'm Mike."

"Hi, Mike." I said, managing to sound a little friendlier.

"Do you need any help finding your next class?" he offered.

"I'm headed to the gym, actually. I think I can find it."

"That's my next class, too." He seemed thrilled, though it wasn't that big of a coincidence in a school this small.

We walked to class together; he was a chatterer- he supplied most of the conversation, which made it easy for me. He'd lived in California till he was ten, so he  
knew how I felt about the sun. It turned out he was in my English class also. He was the nicest person I'd met today. He and Angela were the only two so far I felt like could potentially be actual friends.

But as we were entering the gym, he asked, "So, did you stab Edward Cullen with a pencil or what? I've never seen him act like that."

I cringed. So I wasn't the only one who had noticed. And, apparently, that wasn't Cullen's usual behavior. I decided to play dumb.

"Was that the boy I sat next to in Biology?" I asked artlessly, adopting an oblivious _oh really, do tell_ expression.

"Yes," he said. "He looked like he was in pain or something."

Ha! I was the one in fear for my life for most of the class, since he obviously had a lot of inner rage bubbling under that cool and composed surface. Perhaps he should take up anger management classes. It might do him a world of good, and then I could actually listen in Biology.

"I don't know," I responded. "I never spoke to him."

"He's a weird guy." Mike lingered by me instead of heading to the dressing room. "If I were lucky enough to sit by you, I would have talked to you."

I smiled at him before walking through the girls' locker room door. He was friendly and clearly admiring. But it wasn't enough to ease my horrible mood. I glared at nothing in particular all the way through the class.

The Gym teacher, Coach Clapp, found me a uniform but didn't make me dress down for today's class. I thanked the heavens above for that, and then the next information I received made me have to pretend to have a coughing fit to cover up the stream of curses the flowed my mouth. At home, only two years of P.E. were required. Here, P.E. was mandatory all four years. Forget purgatory. Forks really was my personal hell on Earth. I watched four volleyball games running simultaneously. Remembering how many injuries I had sustained- and inflicted- playing volleyball, I felt faintly nauseated. I had been to the nurse's office at my old school far too many times, and I'd had to walk other people I'd hurt down to the office, stammering apologies and flushed red while they nursed a bump on their head or bloody nose far too many times as well.

The final bell rang at last. I walked slowly to the office to return my paperwork. The rain had drifted away, but the wind was strong, and colder. I wrapped my arms around myself, and flipped up my hood. Every time my jacket started to dry, I had to go back outside and it got wet again. I hated it. When I walked into the warm office, I almost turned around and walked back out.

Cullen stood at the desk in front of me, in all his tousled ginger hair glory. He probably messed it up on purpose, knowing no girl could resist a guy who doesn't know how to use a comb. I was made of sterner stuff. He didn't appear to notice the sound of my entrance, which made me a little bit bolder. I stood up straight, shoulder back, chin slightly out, hood half falling off my head, boots making annoying squeaking noises every time I shifted. I was pressed against the back wall, an annoyed look on my face, narrowing my eyes at the back of his head, waiting for the receptionist to be free.

He was arguing with her in a low voice. I quickly picked up the gist of the argument. He was trying to trade from sixth-hour Biology to another time- any other  
time. Excuse me? _What_? This couldn't be about me. He couldn't be that insane, right? It had to be something else, something that happened before I entered the Biology room. The look on his face must have been about another aggravation entirely. It was impossible that this stranger could take such a sudden, intense dislike to me. Unless he was just a lunatic who despised the smell of strawberries.

The door opened again, and the cold wind suddenly gusted through the room, rustling the papers on the desk, swirling my hair around my face. Some got on my mouth, and I gagged a little, sticking my tongue out in distaste as I wiped strands of hair out of my face with my wet sleeve. The girl who came in merely stepped to the desk, placed a note in the wire basket, and walked out again. But Cullen's back stiffened, and he turned slowly to glare at me with piercing, hate-filled eyes. I tensed but refused to let him intimidate me into looking away. I defiantly stood my ground, staring him right back in his black eyes, even as I felt the goose bumps coming on. It was as if he projected frigid animosity, and was purposely trying to scare me. I could feel my hands starting to ball into fists. So what if I was about as violent as a stuffed animal? I wasn't going to let him make me feel any worse about today.

He turned back to the receptionist. "Never mind, then," he said hastily. "I can see that it's impossible. Thank you so much for your help." And he turned on his heel without another look at me, and disappeared out the door.

I marched over to the desk, my face white for once instead of red, and handed her the signed slip, hands trembling a little with a combination of anger and anxiety.

"How did your first day go, dear?" the receptionist asked maternally.

"Fine," I lied, my voice hollow. She didn't look convinced.

When I got to the truck, it was almost the last car in the lot. It seemed like a haven, already the closest thing to home I had in this damp green hole. I sat inside for a while, just staring out the windshield numbly. Who the hell did Edward effing Cullen think he was? Was this some twisted game to him, hate on the new girl, make her feel like shit so he could feel good about himself? For the first time in a long time, I was so on edge that I wanted to scream. So I did, in my truck, like a loon, shrieking my head off with the radio cranked up and the heat and engine blasting so no one could hear it. And when I was done screeching, and my throat ached, I headed back to Charlie's house, fighting tears the whole way there.


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you to the 2 followers, 1 favorite, and 3 reviewers! I honestly didn't expect any reaction at all to this story, but you proved me wrong. Here's the second chapter!_

**2. Open Book**

The next day was better... and yet somehow worse.

It was better because it wasn't raining yet, though the clouds were dense and opaque and I kept warily looking up at them, expecting to feel rain drops at any given moment. It was easier because I knew what to expect of my day. Mike came to sit by me in English, and walked me to my next class, with Chess Club Eric glaring at him all the while; that was annoying, and I shot Eric a warning look a few times; he either didn't notice, or ignored me. People didn't look at me quite as much as they had yesterday, which I considered a blessing. I sat with a big group at lunch that included Mike, Eric, Jessica, and several other people whose names and faces I now remembered. I began to feel like I was treading water, instead of drowning in it. Forks no longer seemed as suffocating; it was as if I was starting to be able to breathe a little easier, like I did back in Phoenix.

It was worse because I was tired; I still couldn't sleep with the wind echoing around the house. It was worse because Mr. Varner called on me in Trig when my hand wasn't raised and I had the wrong answer. I stared at my lap in humiliation for the rest of class. It was miserable because I had to play volleyball, and the one time I didn't cringe out of the way of the ball, I hit my teammate in the head with it. The entire team looked like they wanted to start groaning in exasperation and/or yelling at me, which had happened often enough at my old high school, but they seemed to restrain themselves because I was, after all, still the new girl.

And it was worse because Cullen wasn't in school at all, so I had no chance to demand to know what his problem was. All morning I was mentally preparing myself for lunch and then for Biology, where I was sure I would find the inner strength to at some point stride over to him, grab him by the front of his designer shirt, and rip him a new one. While I was lying sleepless in my bed, I even imagined what I would say, and what punching him in his perfect nose might feel like. But I knew myself too well to think I would really have the guts to do it. I made the Cowardly Lion look like the Terminator, and that was an understatement. I'd been bullied through elementary and middle school, and the most resistance I had ever put up had been to go back to reading my book and spend lunch crying in the bathroom. But when I walked into the cafeteria with Jessica- trying to keep my eyes from sweeping the place for him, and failing entirely- I saw that his four sort-of siblings were sitting together at the same table, and he was not with them. I didn't know whether to rejoice in delight or sigh in disappointment.

Mike intercepted us and steered us to his table. I didn't care where I sat, so I went along with him. Jessica seemed elated by the attention, and her friends quickly joined us. But as I tried to listen to their easy chatter, I was terribly uncomfortable, waiting in nervous anticipation for the moment he would arrive. I hoped that he would simply ignore me when he came, and prove my suspicions false. He didn't come, and as time passed I grew more and more tense, until I was about ready to jab Jessica in the eye with my spork when she giggled for the umpteenth time.

I walked to Biology with more confidence when, by the end of lunch, he still hadn't showed. Mike, who was taking on the qualities of a golden retriever, walked faithfully by my side to class. I wanted to make a little "shoo, shoo, go play" motion with my hands, but decided that would be mean. I held my breath at the door, but Cullen wasn't there, either. I exhaled and went to my seat. Mike followed, talking about an upcoming trip to the beach. He lingered by my desk till the bell rang. Then he smiled at me wistfully and went to sit by a girl with braces and a bad perm. It looked like I was going to have to do something about Mike, and it wouldn't be easy. In a town like this, where everyone lived on top of everyone else, diplomacy was essential. I had never been enormously tactful; I had no practice dealing with overly friendly boys, and Mike was of the textbook variety. I was pretty sure he thought we had some sort of "connection" when I'd only know him for about a day. Eric was bad enough. I didn't need him and Mike entering some sort of male dominance rivalry for my affections. I would have to shut them both down swiftly and completely, like lopping off two infected limbs. Limbs with severe acne and spiked up hair, respectively.

I was relieved that I had the desk to myself, that Cullen was absent. I did wonder why he was out. Maybe he'd come down with something, and that was why he'd been so horrible the previous day. But he'd just been horrible to _me_.

When the school day was finally done, and the blush was fading out of my cheeks fromthe volleyball incident, I changed quickly back into my jeans and navy blue sweater. I hurried from the girls' locker room, pleased to find that I had successfully evaded my retriever friend for the moment. I walked swiftly out to the parking lot. It was crowded now with fleeing students. I got in my truck and dug through my bag to make sure I had what I needed.

Last night I'd discovered that Charlie couldn't cook much besides fried eggs and bacon. So I requested that I be assigned kitchen detail for the duration of my stay. He was willing enough to hand over the keys to the banquet hall. I also found out that he had no food in the house. I really was living with bachelor, it seemed. So I had my shopping list and the cash from the jar in the cupboard labeled FOOD MONEY, and I was on my way to the Thriftway.

I gunned my deafening engine to life, ignoring the heads that turned in my direction,and backed carefully into a place in the line of cars that were waiting to exit the parking lot. As I waited, trying to pretend that the earsplitting rumble was coming from someone else's car, I saw the two Cullens and the Hale twins getting into their car, which was, surprise, surprise, the Volvo.

They looked at my noisy truck as I passed them, just like everyone else. I kept my eyes straight forward and was relieved when I finally was free of the school grounds. I tried to keep the frown off my face as well; it wasn't them I was upset with, it was their brother.

The Thriftway was not far from the school, just a few streets south, off- guess what- yes, that's right, the _highway_. It took me under two minutes to reach it, even in the afternoon traffic, which was nothing compared to in the city. Forks was practically a ghost town if you judged it by its roads. It was nice to be inside the supermarket; it felt normal. I did the shopping at home, as Mom was easily distracted by bargain sales and could spend a half hour in the cereal aisle alone. I fell into the pattern of the familiar task gladly, pushing a squeaky cart and buying everything I could think of. I couldn't survive off of just eggs and bacon, and Charlie would probably have a heart attack if he kept eating like that. I was by no means a health nut, but I don't think my dad had eaten anything remotely resembling a vegetable since he was with Mom. The store was big enough inside that I couldn't hear the tapping of the rain on the roof to remind me where I was, which was a big plus. There was also barely anyone shopping besides a few little old ladies, and there were only two cashiers on duty, but that was fine with me. No screaming children and their haggard mothers clogging up the aisle.

When I got home, I unloaded all the groceries, stuffing them in wherever I could find an open space. I didn't care if Charlie minded me yanking open cabinets and stuffing the cupboard full of food; I was making the both of us dinner. I wrapped potatoes in foil and stuck them in the oven to bake, covered a steak in marinade and balanced it on top of a carton of eggs in the now filled fridge, and was thankful I had some idea of what I was doing. Taking those cooking classes at the community center back in Phoenix had saved me from eating cereal for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

When I was finished with that, I took my book bag upstairs, intending to reluctantly start my homework. Before I did, I changed into a pair of dry sweats, pulled my damp hair (this was becoming a trend) up into a pony-tail, and checked my e-mail for the first time. I had three messages.

"_Bella_," my mom wrote...  
_Write me as soon as you get in. Tell me how your flight was. Is it raining? I miss you__  
__already. I'm almost finished packing for Florida, but I can't find my pink blouse. Do you__  
__know where I put it? Phil says hi. Mom._

I sighed and went to the next. It was sent eight hours after the first. She wasn't wasting any time, was she?

"_Bella_," she wrote...  
_Why haven't you e-mailed me yet? What are you waiting for? Mom._

The last was from this morning. Oh, great. She was probably freaking out and thought I'd fallen in a rain puddle and drowned or something up here.

_Isabella,__  
__If I haven't heard from you by 5:30 p.m. today I'm calling Charlie.__  
_

Crap. I checked the clock. I still had an hour, but my mom was well known for jumping the gun. If she called Charlie, he'd have to awkwardly lecture me on making her worry, and then I'd have to come up with a good excuse for not checking my email until now.

_Mom,  
Calm down. I'm writing right now. Don't do anything rash.  
Bella.__  
_

I sent that, and began again, hoping she'd see it before she was frantically dialing Charlie's number. Rash was practically my mom's middle name.

_Mom,  
Everything is great. Of course it's raining. I was waiting for something to write about.  
School isn't bad, just a little repetitive. I met some nice kids who sit by me at lunch.  
Your blouse is at the dry cleaners - you were supposed to pick it up Friday.  
Charlie bought me a truck, can you believe it? I love it. It's old, but really sturdy, which  
is good, you know, for me.  
I miss you, too. I'll write again soon, but I'm not going to check my e-mail every five  
minutes. Relax, breathe. I love you.  
Bella.  
_

I had decided to read Wuthering Heights- the novel we were currently studying in English- yet again for the fun of it, because that's the sort of geek I was, and that's what I was doing when Charlie came home. I'd lost track of the time, and I hurried downstairs to take the potatoes out and put the steak in to broil.

"Bella?" my dad called out when he heard me on the stairs.

_No_, I wanted to reply sarcastically, _it's the serial killer waiting for you on the stairs. Come here so I can kill you._ But then he might actually shoot me, and that would be bad.

"Hey, Dad, welcome home." I responded as came down into the hall.

"Thanks." He hung up his gun belt and stepped out of his boots as I bustled about the kitchen. As far as I was aware, he'd never shot the gun on the job, since Forks had practically zero crime. There wasn't even a jail, just a couple of cells in the station. People around here left everything unlocked, and walked around at night without keeping one hand on their cell phone and the other on their pepper spray. But Charlie kept it ready. When I came here as a child, he would always remove the bullets as soon as he walked in the door. I guess he considered me old enough now not to shoot myself by accident, and not depressed enough to shoot myself on purpose.

"What's for dinner?" he asked warily.

My mom was an imaginative cook, and her experiments weren't always edible. I was surprised, and sad, that he seemed to remember that far back. I could almost picture them in this little kitchen, eating at the table in the mismatched chairs, maybe with baby me in a high chair. Did they laugh and talk like other married couples? Did she welcome him home from work like I had just done, and kiss him on the cheek while he hung up his belt and took off his boots?

"Steak and potatoes," I answered, snapping myself out of my imagining, and he looked relieved. He seemed to feel awkward standing in the kitchen doing nothing; he lumbered into the living room to watch TV while I worked. We were both more comfortable that way, and I listened to the show he had on as I made a salad while the steaks cooked, and set the table.

I called him in when dinner was ready, and he sniffed appreciatively as he walked into  
the room. "Smells good, Bell."

"Thanks." I replied as I sat down.

We ate in silence for a few minutes. It wasn't uncomfortable. Neither of us was bothered by the quiet. In some ways, we were well suited for living together. I knew Mom would have been rambling about her day, and peppering him with questions about his. Maybe that was part of the reason things… hadn't worked out. Charlie didn't like to talk much, preferring to say things without words.

"So, how did you like school? Have you made any friends?" he asked as he was taking seconds. Damn, the man could eat. I was just finishing my salad.

"Well, I have a few classes with a girl named Jessica. I sit with her friends at lunch. And there's this boy, Mike, who's very friendly. Everybody seems pretty nice." With one outstanding exception, but I wasn't about to get into that.

"That must be Mike Newton. Nice kid- nice family. His dad owns the sporting goods store just outside of town. He makes a good living off all the backpackers who come through here."

Well, that was interesting. I hadn't pegged Mike as the outdoorsy type, but I was realizing that everyone in Forks was the outdoorsy type. I supposed you had to be, growing up surrounded by a green forest.

"Do you know the Cullen family?" I asked hesitantly. Okay, so I was _sort of _getting into that. It was just an innocent question, and I did want to hear what Charlie thought of them, compared to everyone else.

"Dr. Cullen's family? Sure. Dr. Cullen's a great man." He immediately said, and my eyes widened a little. I hadn't expected that. My dad did not dole out praise lightly; he was bit too gruff for that. The Cullens had seemed like the sort of people he wouldn't be terribly fond of, though I was hard-pressed to recall anyone Charlie really disliked. He generally seemed to just tolerate everyone, a bit like me.

"They... the kids... are a little different. They don't seem to fit in very well at school." I said slowly, trying to sound neutral about it.

Charlie surprised me by looking angry. He not only liked the doctor, but the kids too? He wasn't much of a kid person, though I guess I was the exception, being his daughter. Still, I was never Daddy's Little Princess. He never spoiled me or showered me with affection, but we were… close, as close as I let us be. I felt an unexpected pang of guilt, and pushed it away. It wasn't my fault they hadn't been able to hold together their marriage, and that Mom had moved me so far away.

Still, it took a lot to really upset Charlie. I'd heard him raise his voice before, but never at me. He preferred to stew in silence, like me, rather than explode. My mom was much more temperamental.

"People in this town," he muttered. "Dr. Cullen is a brilliant surgeon who could probably work in any hospital in the world, make ten times the salary he gets here," he continued, getting louder. "We're lucky to have him- lucky that his wife wanted to live in a small town. He's an asset to the community, and all of those kids are well behaved and polite. I had my doubts, when they first moved in, with all those adopted teenagers. I thought we might have some problems with them. But they're all very mature- I haven't had one speck of trouble from any of them. That's more than I can say for the children of some folks who have lived in this town for generations. And they stick together the way a family should- camping trips every other weekend... Just because they're newcomers, people have to talk."

It was the longest speech I'd ever heard Charlie make. I stared at him openly in shock, a piece of steak sitting in my mouth. He must feel strongly about whatever people were saying, to be defending the Cullens so vehemently. Maybe he saw in them what he'd always wanted, or what I was guessing he'd always wanted: a good relationship with his wife, a real family that stood by each other… They seemed like the opposite of whatever me, Mom, and him had.

I backpedaled, finally swallowing the meat in my mouth. "They seemed nice enough to me. I just noticed they kept to themselves. They're all very attractive," I added begrudgingly, trying to be more complimentary.

"You should see the doctor," Charlie said, laughing. "It's a good thing he's happily married. A lot of the nurses at the hospital have a hard time concentrating on their work with him around."

We lapsed back into silence as we finished eating. He cleared the table while I started on the dishes. He went back to the TV, and after I finished washing the dishes by hand- no dishwasher, luckily there weren't many dishes, there being only two of us- I went upstairs unwillingly to work on my math homework. I could feel a tradition in the making, though I hoped he'd be willing to do the dishes some nights. I was already doing the shopping and cooking, and I'd probably end up doing the vacuuming and tidying up to; I didn't want to play housekeeper the entire time I was here.

That night it was finally quiet. I fell asleep quickly, exhausted and grateful that for once the wind and rain had fallen silent.

The rest of the week was uneventful. I got used to the routine of my classes. By Friday I was able to recognize, if not name, almost all the students at school. In Gym, the kids on my team learned not to pass me the ball and to step quickly in front of me if the other team tried to take advantage of my weakness. I happily stayed out of their way.

Cullen didn't come back to school.

Every day, I watched anxiously until the rest of the Cullens entered the cafeteria without him. Then I could relax and join in the lunchtime conversation. Mostly it centered around a trip to the La Push Ocean Park in two weeks that Mike was putting together. I was invited, and I had agreed to go, more out of politeness than desire, as everyone else was planning on going and was very excited about it. I kept my thoughts on the park to myself. Beaches should be hot and dry, not cold and rocky.

By Friday I was perfectly comfortable entering my Biology class, no longer worried that Cullen would be there. For all I knew, he had dropped out of school. I didn't really think about him, though the question of why he had treated me like a monster occasionally gnawed at me.

My first weekend in Forks passed without incident. Charlie, unused to spending time in the usually empty house, worked most of the weekend. I cleaned the house, got ahead on my homework, and wrote my mom more bogusly cheerful e-mail. I figured if I kept distracting myself, no matter how tedious the task, I could keep the ache in my chest from missing home at bay. I did drive to the library Saturday, but it was so poorly stocked that I didn't bother to get a card; I would have to make a date to visit Olympia or Seattle soon and find a good bookstore. I was snobby about my literature selection. Faded old harlequin romance novels were not going to cut it. I wondered idly what kind of gas mileage the truck got... and shuddered at the thought.

The rain stayed soft over the weekend, quiet, so I was able to sleep well. I even slept in a bit, since the sunlight didn't stream through my window in the morning like it had in Arizona. Mornings were typically dark here, and though I found them grim, I did like not waking up the second warm light hit me.

People greeted me in the parking lot Monday morning. I didn't know all their names, but I waved back and smiled at everyone. It was colder this morning, but happily not raining. In English, Mike took his accustomed seat by my side. We had a pop quiz on Wuthering Heights. It was straightforward, very easy, especially since I'd been rereading the book. I got through it in no time at all, a small, pleased smile on my face as I handed it back to Mr. Mason.

All in all, I was feeling a lot more comfortable than I had thought I would feel by this point. More comfortable than I had ever expected to feel here, and maybe even more comfortable than I was at my old high school. It was sort of nice, having people wave to me and know my name, and having friends to walk with and sit with at lunch. I'd never really had that experience before.

When we walked out of class, the air was full of swirling bits of white. I could hear people shouting excitedly to each other. The wind bit at my cheeks, my nose.

"Wow," Mike said. "It's snowing."

I looked at the little cotton fluffs that were building up along the sidewalk and swirling erratically past my face.

"Oh." I said quietly, taking it all in, not sure how to react.

He looked surprised. "Don't you like snow?"

"Of course I do. That means it's too cold for rain." Obviously. It was still wet, but nowhere near as disheartening to see pouring down from the heavens. "It's just, I thought it was supposed to come down in flakes- you know, each one unique and all that. These just look like the ends of Q-tips." I muttered.

"Haven't you ever seen snow fall before?" he asked incredulously.

"Sure I have." I paused. "On TV."

Mike laughed. Even I had to chuckle. And then a big, squishy ball of dripping snow smacked into the back of his head. We both turned to see where it came from. I had my suspicions about Eric, who was walking away, his back toward us- in the wrong direction for his next class. Mike apparently had the same notion. He bent over and began scraping together a pile of the white mush. I watched in fascination for a minute, having never actually seen someone in real life make a snowball before, and then realized I was a wide open target.

"I'll see you at lunch, okay?" I hurried away as I called back to him. "Once people start throwing wet stuff, I go inside." I liked watching it silently fall from the sky, and it was pretty and dry enough looking on the ground, covering up all the green, but I didn't want to get hit with it.

He just nodded, his eyes on Eric's retreating figure.

Throughout the morning, everyone chattered excitedly about the snow; apparently it was the first snowfall of the new year. I kept my mouth shut, wary I might let a sarcastic comment slip, but their exhilaration was almost contagious, and I did let a grin show once or twice.

I walked alertly to the cafeteria with Jessica after Spanish. Snowballs were flying everywhere. I kept a binder in my hands, ready to use it as a shield if necessary. Jessica thought I was hilarious, but something in my expression kept her from lobbing one at me herself.

Mike caught up to us as we walked in the doors, laughing, with ice melting the spikes in his hair. He and Jessica were talking animatedly about the snow fight as we got in line to buy food. I glanced toward that table in the corner out of habit. And then I froze where I stood. There were five people at the table.

Oh no.

Jessica pulled on my arm. "Hello? Bella? What do you want?"

I looked down; my ears were hot. I had no reason to feel self-conscious, I reminded myself angrily. I hadn't done anything wrong.

"What's with Bella?" Mike asked Jessica.

"Nothing," I answered. "I'll just get a soda today." I caught up to the end of the line.

"Aren't you hungry?" Jessica asked.

"Actually, I feel a little sick," I said, my eyes still on the floor. Things had been going so well, today had been almost, dare I say it, _fun_, and now he had to show up and ruin everything.

I waited for them to get their food, and then followed them to a table, my eyes on my feet. I sipped my soda slowly, my stomach churning. They all asked a few more times how I was feeling, but I kept repeating that it was nothing. I couldn't let them know that one person was making me feel so bad all of a sudden- they'd think I was being ridiculous and overly sensitive. And maybe I was. But that didn't help the churning in my stomach. I was wondering if I should play it up and escape to the nurse's office for the next hour. That was stupid; I shouldn't have to run away, but I felt like I'd feel a lot better if I got out of this cafeteria as soon as possible.

I decided to permit myself one glance at the Cullen family's table. If he was glaring at me, I would skip Biology, like the coward I was. It would be the last straw. I kept my head down and glanced up under my lashes. None of them were looking this way. I lifted my head a little, curious.

They were laughing. Edward, Jasper, and Emmett all had their hair entirely saturated with melting snow. Alice and Rosalie were leaning away as Emmett shook his dripping hair toward them. They were enjoying the snowy day, just like everyone else- only they looked more like a scene from a movie than the rest of us. For once, they seemed to be acting like regular teenagers, rather than distant strangers. They'd obviously gotten involved in the school wide snowball fight. But, aside from the laughter and playfulness, there was something different, and I couldn't quite pinpoint what that difference was. I examined Edward Cullen the most carefully, through furtive looks. This time, I doubted he even noticed them. He was preoccupied, fooling around with his siblings, looking much more like a regular guy than I'd ever seen him look before. Perhaps he wasn't as haughty and cold as he had appeared. His skin certainly looked less pale, more normal, still whiter than everyone else's, but it was flushed, probably since he'd just been running around outside with his siblings. The circles under his eyes were much less noticeable; he and the rest of them probably just naturally had them, as strange as it was, I figured, and they'd been more pronounced previously. But something else was different, and I couldn't figure out what. It was frustrating. Here was the boy who just last week had acted like I had the plague, and gone out of his way to act nastily towards me, and now he was laughing, wiping snow out of his messy-as-usual hair with long fingers, flicking a few pieces at his sisters.

"Bella, what are you staring at?" Jessica intruded, her eyes following my stare.

_Shit_. I'd been caught in the act.

At that precise moment, his eyes flashed over to meet mine.

I dropped my head, letting my hair fall to conceal my face. It worked great as a shield. I was sure, though, in the instant our eyes met, that he didn't look harsh or unfriendly as he had the last time I'd seen him. He looked merely curious again, unsatisfied in some way. Somehow, I couldn't bring myself to feel very sympathetic. Jackass.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you," Jessica giggled in my ear.

Oh for the love of- I restrained myself from dumping my soda on her head.

"He doesn't look angry, does he?" I couldn't help asking, and then winced and wanted to slam my face into the table.

"No," she said, sounding confused by my question. "Should he be?"

"I don't think he likes me," I confided, in a rare moment of openness. Just saying it was hard for me. I swallowed and still felt queasy. I put my head down on my arm.

"The Cullens don't like anybody...well, they don't notice anybody enough to like them. But he's still staring at you."

"Stop looking at him," I hissed. He seemed to be in a good mood right now. I didn't need her pissing his lordship off by daring to look in his direction; I had Biology to get through with him.

She snickered, but she looked away. I raised my head enough to make sure that she did, contemplating violence if she resisted.

Mike interrupted us then- he was planning an epic battle of the blizzard in the parking lot after school and wanted us to join. Jessica agreed enthusiastically. The way she looked at Mike left little doubt that she would be up for anything he suggested. Good. Maybe she could draw his attention away from me, and then I would only have to handle Eric. Then again, I would probably have to hide in the gym until the parking lot cleared. I wasn't going to go home soaked because I got caught in a snowball massacre.

For the rest of the lunch hour I very carefully kept my eyes at my own table. I decided to honor the bargain I'd made with myself. Since he didn't look angry, I would go to Biology. My stomach did nervous little flips at the thought of sitting next to him again. Should I fight him? Wasn't that how boys settled their aggression? They had to come to physical blows and then they were "bros", right? Right? But I was a girl- I doubted that was going to work. Besides, even if he wasn't as big or tall as his brothers, he was still probably much stronger than me. I regularly had to ask for help opening jars. It was kind of pathetic.

I didn't really want to walk to class with Mike as usual- he seemed to be a popular target for the snowball snipers- but when we went to the door, everyone, including me, groaned in unison. It was raining, washing all traces of the snow away in clear, icy ribbons down the walkway. The green was revealed once more, and everything was saturated and dripping. I pulled my hood up with a scowl. The only good thing about this was that I wouldn't have to fear getting pegged with snow balls on the way to my truck. Mike kept up a string of complaints on the way to building four.

Once inside the classroom, I saw with relief that my table was still empty. Mr. Banner was walking around the room, distributing one microscope and box of slides to each table. Class didn't start for a few minutes, and the room buzzed with conversation. I kept my eyes away from the door, doodling idly on the cover of my notebook. I was a horrible artist, but I thought I was doing an okay image of my truck.

I heard very clearly when the chair next to me moved, but my eyes stayed carefully focused on the pattern I was drawing. He could probably smell fear or something. It was like the Basilisk in Harry Potter. You couldn't look it in the eyes.

"Hello," said a quiet voice. Not as quiet as mine, more… mellow and s I thought I always sounded a bit hoarse, strained, probably because it was rare that I really spoke up for more than a few words. I looked up, stunned. He was sitting as far away from me as the desk allowed, but his chair was angled toward me. I supposed I should count that as progress. His hair was dripping wet, disheveled- I watched water trickle off it in a stupor of shock. His face was friendly, open, a slight smile on his lips. But his eyes were careful.

Oh, he had better be careful. Did he think he could just waltz in and start chatting with me after recovering from his male period or whatever he'd been going through last week? Not. Likely. I angled my chin upward, narrowed my eyes, and tried to look as unimpressed as possible. There was water. Trickling down his face. How did that not bother him?!

"My name is Edward Cullen," he continued. "I didn't have a chance to introduce myself last week. You must be Bella Swan." Didn't have a chance to introduce himself? He wouldn't even look at me! My mind was spinning with confusion. Had I made up the whole thing? Was I insane; in the grasp of some hallucination? He was perfectly polite now. He was waiting for me to reply. I tried to keep my jaw from dropping like a puppet's and instead clacked my teeth together.

Ow.

"How do you know my name?" I asked flatly, trying to sound bored and disinterested. Silly little boy. You know not who you dare address. We are not amused.

He laughed a soft, mildly creepy laugh. I was pretty sure mine was deeper. His seemed to say: Serial killer! Asylum escapee! Super villain! All three!

"Oh, I think everyone knows your name. The whole town's been waiting for you to  
arrive."

I grimaced in annoyance. As if I didn't already know that.

"No," I continued coldly. "I meant, why did you call me Bella?"

He seemed confused. "Do you prefer Isabella?"

I didn't want him calling me Bella, but Isabella wasn't much better.

"No, I like Bella," I said firmly. "But I think Charlie- I mean my dad- must call me Isabella behind my back- that's what everyone here seems to know me as," I tried to explain, feeling like an utter moron, and aggravated that I felt like one in front of him.

"Oh." He let it drop. I looked away, relieved that the conversation was over. I had about enough of Cullen. Hopefully I'd never have to say more than a sentence or two to him again, and we could both get on with our lives.

Thankfully, Mr. Banner started class at that moment. I tried to concentrate as he explained the lab we would be doing today. The slides in the box were out of order. Working as lab partners, we had to separate the slides of onion root tip cells into the phases of mitosis they represented and label them accordingly. We weren't supposed to use our books. In twenty minutes, he would be coming around to see who had it right.

"Get started," he commanded.

"Ladies first, partner?" Cullen asked. I looked up to see him smiling a crooked smile that could only be described as untrustworthy.

"Or I could start, if you wish." The smile faded; he was obviously wondering if I was mentally competent.

I was wondering if he was mentally sane. Maybe he had multiple personalities. He didn't talk like a regular teenager; the way he spoke was more formal, older too. Perhaps he had previously been in private school.

"No," I said darkly. "I'll go ahead."

I was showing off, and totally trying to rub it in his face. I'd already done this lab, and I knew what I was looking for. It should be easy. But he'd probably never done it before, which meant I would be right, and he would be wrong. Nothing could make me happier. I snapped the first slide into place under the microscope and adjusted it quickly to the 40X objective. I studied the slide briefly.

My assessment was confident, even arrogant." Prophase." I drawled, fighting back a smirk.

"Do you mind if I look?" he asked as I began to remove the slide. His hand caught mine, to stop me, as he asked. His fingers were ice-cold, like he'd been holding them in a snowdrift before class. It was freaky to feel them wrapped around my warm skin. But that wasn't why I jerked my hand away so quickly. When he touched me, it stung my hand as if an electric current had passed through us. I held back a curse. He could keep his new static shock powers to himself.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, pulling his hand back immediately. However, he continued to reach for the microscope. I watched him, seething silently, as he examined the slide for an even shorter time than I had. He had to be bullshitting it. There was no way he could know so fast.

"Prophase," he agreed, writing it neatly in the first space on our worksheet. He swiftly switched out the first slide for the second, and then glanced at it cursorily. "Anaphase," he murmured, writing it down as he spoke.

I kept my voice indifferent and cool. "May I?" It wasn't really a question.

He smirked and pushed the microscope to me.

I looked through the eyepiece eagerly, only to be disappointed. Dang it, he was right. He had to be some sort of science nerd.

"Slide three?" I held out my hand without looking at him.

He handed it to me; it seemed like he was being careful not to touch my skin again. Excellent. I didn't need his freezing fingers on mine.

I took the most fleeting look I could manage without looking absurd. "Interphase." I passed him the microscope before he could ask for it, almost shoving it at him. He took a swift peek, and then wrote it down. I would have written it while he looked, but his clear, elegant script intimidated me, to my disgust. If I wrote he would see how horrendously messy my handwriting was, and probably smirk at me again.

We were finished before anyone else was close. I could see Mike and his partner comparing two slides again and again, and another group had their book open under the table. Amateurs. They should have at least put someone's backpack in front of it. Mr. Banner was bound to see it.

Which left me with nothing to do but to ignore him, which worked for a few wonderful minutes. Then I glanced up inadvertently, and he was staring at me, looking inexplicably frustrated. Oh not this again. If he started acting like he was PMSing once more I really was going to stab him with a pencil.

And then I identified the subtle difference in his face I hadn't been able to find before.

It was his eyes.

"Did you get contacts?" I blurted out, an accusing ring to my words.

He seemed puzzled by my unexpected question. "No."

Well, damn it. Now I looked like a weirdo.

"Oh," I mumbled. "I thought there was something different about your eyes." I added defensively. See? I explained acting like a freak. He didn't.

He shrugged, and looked away.

But I was sure there was something different. I vividly remembered the flat black color of his eyes the last time he'd glared at me- the color was extreme against the background of his pale skin and his auburn hair. Today, his eyes were a completely different color: a strange yellowish brown, darker than butterscotch, but with the same golden tone. It barely looked natural; any more yellow and I would have sworn they were those cheap color contacts people bought at drug stores for Halloween.

I looked down. His hands were clenched into hard fists again.

He needed to get a grip.

Mr. Banner came to our table then, to see why we weren't working. He looked over our shoulders to glance at the completed lab, and then stared more intently to check the answers. "So, Edward, didn't you think Isabella should get a chance with the microscope?" Mr. Banner asked, sound just as sarcastic as me on a regular basis.

"Bella," Cullen corrected automatically. "Actually, she identified three of the five."

I frowned. I didn't need him correcting people for me.

Mr. Banner looked at me now; his expression was skeptical. "Have you done this lab before?" he asked.

I forced my frown into a sheepish smile. "Not with onion root."

"Whitefish blastula?" he interrogated.

"Yeah."

Mr. Banner nodded. "Were you in an advanced placement program in Phoenix ?"

"Yes." I said with a hint of pride, straightening up a little.

"Well," he said after a moment, "I guess it's good you two are lab partners." He mumbled something else as he walked away, probably to the extent of "two nerds".

After he left, I went back to my doodle of my truck, utterly content to pretend Cullen had never existed on this Earth, and was not currently sitting beside me.

Unfortunately, he just had to prove his existence by opening his mouth.

"It's too bad about the snow, isn't it?" he asked. I had the feeling that he was forcing himself to make small talk with me. I didn't know why he was bothering. It was clear to me that both of us were much better off never speaking to or acknowledging each other again.

"It was better than the rain, I guess," I answered shortly

"You don't like the cold." he stated.

I wasn't impressed by his powers of deduction.

"Or the wet." I said dismissively, eyes flicking to his still damp hair with distaste.

"Forks must be a difficult place for you to live," he mused.

"I wonder why." I found myself practically spitting

He looked fascinated, for some reason I couldn't imagine.

"Why did you come here, then?"

That was a good question, one no one else had thus far dared to ask. Too bad I didn't want to answer it.

"It's complicated." I said tightly, pressing my pencil down a little harder on my notebook.

"I think I can keep up," he pressed.

What, was he Nancy Drew now? Why should I have to tell him anything? My shoulders hunched in agitation, and I felt like screaming again, like I had that first day in my truck, after school. I couldn't breathe again. I was drowning.

"Then try to," I hissed, throwing all semblance of civility to the wayside. He had asked for it, and this had been a long time coming. "My mom got remarried, alright? _That's_ why."

"That doesn't sound very complex." he disagreed, though he looked taken aback, and I felt a surge of something that was probably rage. What did he know? Mr. Perfect, star student, good looks, a loving, intact family that went camping on the weekends and had snowball fights! He couldn't even comprehend how different my life had been. He and his snobby siblings were ruling their imaginary little kingdom, sitting in a corner of the lunch room. I was going under in a sea of people and emotions and no one could even hear me fracturing into a million little pieces.

"When did that happen?" he then asked, sounding gentler; sympathetic, almost.

I didn't need his sympathy.

"Last September." My voice sounded sad and angry, even to me. I hated sounding like that; it made me sound young, and vulnerable.

"And you don't like him," Edward surmised, his tone still kind, but I couldn't care less. he assumed too much.

"No, Phil is fine. Too young, but nice enough." I struggled to keep my voice at least somewhat even.

"Why didn't you stay with them?"

The tip of my pencil splintered and fell off from the pressure I was exerting on it. I let go of it abruptly and dug my nails into the wood of the desk instead.

"Phil travels a lot. He plays ball for a living." I gave a bitter, crooked little smile, sort of like that one he given me just minutes earlier.

"Have I heard of him?" he asked, smiling back in response, most likely trying to set me more at ease.

It wasn't working.

"Probably not. He doesn't play well. Strictly minor league. He moves around a lot."

"And your mother sent you here so that she could travel with him." He was assuming, yet again.

My eyes probably flashed, and I went rigid, stiff as a board. "No, she did not send me here. I sent myself." I said between gritted teeth. It was my turn to clench my hands into hard fists. No one had ever made me lose my composure like this. No one.

His eyebrows knit together. "I don't understand," he admitted, and he seemed  
unnecessarily frustrated by that fact.

I sighed in agitation. Why was I explaining this to him? He continued to stare at me with obvious curiosity.

"She stayed with me at first, but she missed him. It made her unhappy... being left behind with _me _made her unhappy… so I decided it was time to spend some quality time with my dad." My voice was completely emotionless by the time I finished.

"But now you're unhappy," he pointed out.

"And?" I challenged, looking away.

"That doesn't seem fair." He shrugged, but his eyes were still intense.

I laughed without humor. "Hasn't anyone ever told you? Life isn't fair." It had become my mantra as of late.

"I believe I have heard that somewhere before," he agreed dryly.

"So that's all," I insisted, wondering why he was still staring at me that way. He had tricked me into revealing much more than I had intended to, by pretending to care, putting on a supportive face. If he had wanted me to snap, he'd succeeded. The dam had broken momentarily, and a tidal wave of regret and anger and betrayal had come rushing out, before I sealed it all back up again.

His gaze became appraising. "You put on a good show," he said slowly. "But I'd be willing to bet that you're suffering more than you let anyone see."

What did he know about suffering?

I grimaced at him and went back to doodling, hiding behind my hair once more. What I was going through was none of his damn business. He wasn't my therapist, and I certainly didn't need him to act like one. We weren't even friends.

"Am I wrong?"

I ignored him.

"I didn't think so," he murmured smugly.

"Why does it matter to you?" I retorted, furious with myself and him. I kept my eyes away, watching the teacher make his rounds, and hoped I didn't start crying. My face was probably very red by this point, and he had to be able to tell I was upset. So why didn't he just drop it?!

"That's a very good question," he muttered, so quietly that I wondered if he was talking to himself. However, after a few seconds of silence, I decided that was the only answer I was going to get.

I was completely fed up with him by that point and resorted to scowling at the blackboard.

"Am I annoying you?" he asked. He sounded amused.

Captain Obvious strikes again.

I glanced at him without thinking... and told the truth again, to my horror. "_No_, I just _love _being quizzed about my entire life story by a guy I don't even know."

Then I groaned softly. "God, I'm such an open book." My mom was right. She always said she could read my emotions on my face. I guess she just chose to ignore them when she let me leave.

"On the contrary, I find you very difficult to read." Despite everything that I'd said and he'd assumed, making an ass of out of the both of us, he sounded like he meant it. Why did he always have to sound so earnest? It was making staying angry with him harder. I was starting to feel like a complete bitch.

"You must be a good reader then," I deadpanned.

"Usually." He smiled widely, flashing a set of perfectly straight, white teeth.

Well. Someone must have had a good dentist. I wondered if he'd ever had braces. It was difficult to picture him with them. I spitefully hoped that he'd been extremely dorky looking through middle school. He had probably been one of those stick thin little dweebs.

Mr. Banner called the class to order then, and I turned with relief to listen. I was in disbelief that I'd just cracked and explained my life to this freak of a boy who may or may not despise me. He'd seemed engrossed in our conversation, but now I could see, from the corner of my eye, that he was leaning away from me again, his hands gripping the edge of the table with unmistakable tension. I still couldn't figure out what his aim was. Was this his bizarre way of hitting on me? But if he was attracted to me, wouldn't he be doing everything he could to be as close to me as possible? Did he just want to be friends? Then why was he acting so… weird? Was this some passive aggressive, psychotic way of trying to bully me? He was being a pretty bad excuse for a bully, if that was what it was.

I tried to appear attentive as Mr. Banner illustrated, with transparencies on the overhead projector, what I had seen without difficulty through the microscope. But my thoughts were unmanageable. I could feel a headache coming on.

When the bell finally rang, Edward rushed as quickly from the room as he had last Monday. And, like last Monday, I stared after him, a cross between a frown and a sneer on my face. He acted like he was scared of me, half the time. What, did he suppose I was going to chase after him as soon as class ended?

Mike skipped quickly to my side and picked up my books for me. I imagined him with a wagging tail and fur, cringed at the thought, and yanked my books away from him harder than I meant, trying not to feel guilty about his momentarily hurt expression. He was going to have to pick up that I wasn't interested at some point, and the sooner, the better.

"That was awful," he groaned. "They all looked exactly the same. You're lucky you had Cullen for a partner."

"I didn't have any trouble with it," I said scathingly, stung by his assumption that I'd copied. I regretted the snub instantly. "I've done the lab before, though," I added hastily before he could get his feelings hurt yet again by me. I was being awful, and I knew it. It was Cullen's negative, creepy energy, rubbing off on me.

"Cullen seemed friendly enough today," he commented as we shrugged into our raincoats. He didn't seem pleased about it.

I rolled my eyes at him and did my best to sound indifferent. "I wonder what was with him last Monday."

I couldn't concentrate on Mike's chatter as we walked to Gym, and class didn't do much to hold my attention, either. Mike was on my team today. He chivalrously covered my position as well as his own, so my woolgathering was only interrupted when it was my turn to serve; my team ducked warily out of the way every time I was up. Good, they were learning.

The rain was just a mist as I walked to the parking lot, but I was happier when I was in the dry cab. I got the heater running, for once not caring about the mind-numbing roar of the engine. I unzipped my jacket, put the hood down, and fluffed my damp hair out so the heater could dry it on the way home. That was one good thing about having thin hair; it dried quickly.

I looked around me to make sure it was clear. That's when I noticed the still, white figure. Cullen was leaning against the front door of the Volvo, three cars down from me, and staring intently in my direction. I swiftly looked away and threw the truck into reverse, almost hitting a rusty Toyota Corolla in my haste. Lucky for the Toyota, I stomped on the brake in time with a gasp of alarm. It was just the sort of car that my truck would make scrap metal of, and I didn't want to get sued. I took a deep breath, still looking out the other side of my car, and cautiously pulled out again, with greater success. I stared straight ahead as I passed the Volvo, but from a peripheral peek, I would swear I saw him laughing. My fingers tightened on the steering wheel and I slammed down on my horn with a tiny smirk of satisfaction. From my rear view mirror, I saw him jump a little. He hadn't been expecting _that_, and the stares I received as I left the school parking lot were well worth it.


	3. Chapter 3

_Thank you to my one new follower! I know these chapters are getting progressively shorter, sorry about that if you liked how long the first one was. I'm trying to keep them around even in length to the books._

**3. Phenomenon**

When I opened my eyes in the morning, something was different. It was the light. It was still the gray-green light of a cloudy day in the forest, but it was clearer somehow. I realized there was no fog veiling my window. I eagerly jumped up to look outside, and then groaned in horror. A fine layer of snow covered the yard, dusted the top of my truck, and whitened the road. That was fine. I was glad it covered the endless, disgusting green once more. The bad part was that the rain from yesterday had frozen solid- coating the needles on the trees in fantastic, gorgeous patterns, and making the driveway a deadly ice slick. I had enough trouble not falling down when the ground was dry; it might be safer for me to go back to bed now. I contemplated it, but knew I would never skip school, even if I'd probably be risking my life to get there. I was too much of a geek to miss my classes.

Charlie had left for work before I got downstairs. In a lot of ways, living with Charlie was like having my own place, and I found myself reveling in the aloneness instead of being lonely. I was for the most part a solitary person; I didn't mind crowds and being amongst large groups of people; that had been common enough back in Phoenix, but I didn't need constant company either. I threw down a quick bowl of cereal and some orange juice from the carton, feeling a little daring this morning. No pouring-it-in-a-glass for this rebel. I felt a weird sense excitement about going to school, and it frankly scared me. Yeah, I wanted to learn. I liked learning and I wasn't afraid to admit it. I was doing well here, except for in Trig, but that was to be expected. Math had never been my forte. I also liked having people to sit with at lunch and walk with to classes, people who apparently liked me for who I was, and not just for being the "new girl", since my novelty was finally starting to wear off. But I also, and I cringed to even admit, sort of wanted to see Cullen. He'd made me more upset yesterday than any other human being had ever made me, in my memory. Getting angry like that, really angry, not just annoyed or irritated, wasn't something I was used to experiencing. It was almost a shameful sort of adrenaline rush. He had pissed me off. When I got pissed off I said exactly what I meant; I spoke what I usually had to remember to keep to myself. It was… freeing, to be able to finally speak my mind, even if I was furious. So in a twisted way, I knew, I was almost hoping he'd incense me again, just so I could unleash all my emotions in a short storm before I had to go back to my shell.

And that was very, very stupid. I should be avoiding him entirely after my humiliating mini rant yesterday, after seeing how his eyes had changed color and he was clearly lying about them or I was insane- and I was _not_ crazy- and after seeing how his moods changed in the blink of an eye. He was obviously unstable and volatile and probably not quite right in the head, and he certainly wasn't helping my moodiness and sarcasm levels either.

It took every ounce of my concentration to make it down the icy brick driveway alive. I almost lost my balance when I finally got to the truck, but I managed to cling to the side mirror and save myself. I climbed into my truck with effort, my feet almost sliding out from under me as I pulled the driver's door open and attempted to clamber in. Clearly, today was going to be nightmarish.

Driving to school, I distracted myself from my fear of falling and my unwanted speculations about Cullen by thinking about Mike and Eric, and the obvious difference in how teenage boys responded to me here. I was sure I looked exactly the same as I had in Phoenix. Maybe it was just that the boys back home had watched me pass slowly through all the awkward phases of adolescence and still thought of me that way. It had probably been hard to un-imagine the acne and the braces and how I had seemed to trip more times than I actually stepped while walking. My clumsiness was bad now, but it had been far, far worse during the middle school years, when I suddenly shot up in height and found I no longer quite knew what to do with my new, longer limbs. I was about average height right now, but I'd been very small as a child. Small and pale.

I was coming to resent both of them treating me like a constant damsel in distress in need of their protection. I could handle myself just fine. I'd survived two Biology classes seated next to Edward Cullen, after all. Maybe they mistook my quietness for meekness, and my clumsiness for helplessness. But I wasn't meek or helpless. I didn't want to be either of those things. I knew I was self reliant and smart enough to think my way out of most situations.

Mike was nice, and I liked him as a good friend. Sure, he was cute enough, but I'd never really gone for blondes, and he was just a little too eager. Besides, it was obvious to everyone other than him, it seemed, that Jessica had a massive crush on him. She'd probably liked him since they were both kids, and I wasn't about to coldly get in the way of that. I could never be that cruel. I thought they'd be good together, too. Their personalities seemed complementary enough; they were both fun loving and optimistic, and down to earth and good-natured as well.

Eric just wasn't my type. I barely considered him more than an acquaintance, and I doubted he was really interested in _me_, Bella, the person, just my looks and the fact that I was new and all of his dorky friends would probably be impressed if he could claim to be my boyfriend. Look, I was a bit nerdy and geeky and dorky too, but Eric was on a whole different level of socially awkward and intensely smart.

My truck seemed to have no problem with the black ice that covered the roads. I drove very slowly, though, not wanting to carve a path of destruction through Main Street. When I got out of my truck at school, I saw why I'd had so little trouble. Something silver caught my eye, and I walked to the back of the truck- carefully holding the side for support- to examine my tires. There were thin chains crisscrossed in diamond shapes around them. Charlie had gotten up who knows how early to put snow chains on my truck. My throat suddenly felt tight. I wasn't used to being taken care of, and Charlie's unspoken concern caught me by surprise. Was this what dads did for their daughters? I swallowed a little and forced back all the sentimental nonsense. I couldn't come in to school looking like I'd just seen a Hallmark channel movie.

I was standing by the back corner of the truck, struggling to fight back the sudden wave of emotion the snow chains had brought on, when I heard an odd sound. It was a high-pitched screech, and it was fast becoming painfully loud. I looked up, startled. I saw several things simultaneously. Nothing was moving in slow motion, the way it does in the movies. Instead, the adrenaline rush seemed to make my brain work much faster, and I was able to absorb in clear detail several things at once. Cullen was standing four cars down from me, staring at me in horror. His face stood out from a sea of faces, all frozen in the same mask of shock. I didn't understand why at first. But of more immediate importance was the dark blue van that was skidding, tires locked and squealing against the brakes, spinning wildly across the ice of the parking lot. It was going to hit the back corner of my truck, and I was standing between them. I didn't even have time to close my eyes, standing there in petrified terror, probably shaking like a leaf.

Just before I heard the shattering crunch of the van folding around the truck bed, something hit me, hard, but not from the direction I was expecting. I let out a muffled shriek before my head cracked against the icy blacktop, and I felt something solid and cold pinning me to the ground. What the hell was going on?! I was lying on the pavement behind the tan car I'd parked next to. My head throbbed and my eyes brimmed with tears of pain. My body felt incredibly sore but also as if I had spaghetti for limbs. Every part of me trembled, and my breath was racing in and out of my lungs. I was probably hyperventilating. But I didn't have a chance to notice anything else, because the van was still coming. It had curled gratingly around the end of the truck and, still spinning and sliding, was about to collide with me again.

Obviously, some cosmic force had decided today was Hate on Bella Swan Day. This was my ordinary bad luck multiplied by a thousand.

A low oath made me aware that someone was with me, and the voice was impossible not to recognize. Oh, you had _got _to be shitting me. What in name of all that was holy was he doing here?! He'd just been over there! Two long, white hands shot out in front of me, and the van shuddered to a stop a foot from my face, the large hands fitting providentially into a deep dent in the side of the van's body.

Then his hands moved so fast they blurred. One was suddenly gripping under the body of the van, and something was dragging me, swinging my legs around like a ragdoll's, till they hit the tire of the tan car. A groaning metallic thud hurt my ears, and the van settled, glass popping, onto the asphalt- exactly where, a second ago, my legs had been.

It was absolutely silent for one long second before the screaming began. In the abrupt bedlam, I could hear more than one person shouting my name. But more clearly than all the yelling, I could hear his low, frantic voice in my ear.

"Bella? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." My voice sounded woozy and shaken, like I was drunk. I tried to sit up, and realized he was holding me against the side of his body in an iron grasp.

"Be careful," he warned as I struggled. "I think you hit your head pretty hard."

No shit, Sherlock.

"Ow," I moaned, and then remembered he still had his hands on me. "Let go of me," I muttered, trying and failing to push him away.

"That's what I thought." His voice, amazingly, sounded like he was suppressing laughter, though he did let go of me.

I failed to see how any of this funny. I'd almost been killed. He apparently had superpowers. This was like some sort of bizarre nightmare.

"How in the..." I trailed off, trying to clear my head, get my bearings. "How did you get over here so fast?" I demanded, sounding barely intelligible, as I wiped at my wet eyes with the back of my hand.

"I was standing right next to you, Bella," he said, his tone serious again.

Ha. That was a good one. Liar.

I turned to sit up, and he slid as far from me as he could in the limited space. I looked at his concerned, innocent expression that was so clearly a mask of deceit and deception.

What was I asking him again?

And then they found us, a crowd of people with tears streaming down their faces, shouting at each other, shouting at us. "Don't move," someone instructed.

"Get Tyler out of the van!" someone else shouted. There was a flurry of activity around us. I tried to get up, but Cullen's cold hand pushed my shoulder down. "Just stay put for now."

"No," I whined. "It's cold, you… you…" I forgot what I was planning on calling him, and was quiet for a moment, wincing every time my head throbbed. It didn't surprise me when he chuckled under his breath. He seemed to enjoy it, but there was an edge to the sound, one that seemed to say _shut up before my superpowers and villainous ways are discovered, Bella_.

That was just too bad, because I was getting answers whether he liked it or not.

"You were over there," I suddenly remembered, and his chuckle stopped short, which satisfied me immensely. "You were by your car."

His expression turned hard. "No, I wasn't." I could practically feel the ice in his tone.

"I saw you." I pointed out. All around us was chaos. I could hear the gruffer voices of adults arriving on the scene. But I obstinately held on to our argument; I was right, and he was going to admit it, damn it!

"Bella, I was standing with you, and I pulled you out of the way." he practically hissed at me. My refusal to play along with his little "totally normal, guys!" farce was obviously pissing him off.

"No." I set my jaw as much as I could in my current slumped position.

His eyes blazed. "Please, Bella." It seemed to be more of a threat than a request.

"Why?" I snapped, though it was decidedly less snappish, given how weird my voice was right now. "Why are you lying?"

"Trust me," he pleaded, his voice soft and somehow very scary.

I could hear the sirens now. "You're going to explain everything to me later."

"Fine," he snapped, abruptly exasperated.

"Fine," I repeated angrily.

It took six EMTs and two teachers- Mr. Varner and Coach Clapp- to shift the van far enough away from us to bring the stretchers in. Cullen vehemently refused his, and I tried to do the same, but the traitor told them I'd hit my head and probably had a concussion. I almost died of humiliation when they put on the neck brace. It looked like the entire school was there, watching soberly as they loaded me in the back of the ambulance. Cullen got to ride in the front. It was maddening, but I stopped myself from pitching a hissy fit only so I didn't get put in a strait jacket too.

To make matters worse, Charlie arrived before they could get me safely away.

"Bella!" he yelled in panic when he recognized me on the stretcher.

I managed a small wave, and mouthed "I'm fine" and also "Edward Cullen is a bastard", but I don't think he saw, as he turned to the closest EMT. I tuned him out to consider the jumble of inexplicable images churning chaotically in my head. I had to treat this like a mystery, and I was the detective, even if said detective was possibly delirious right now and had a giant headache.

When they'd lifted me away from the car, I had seen the deep dent in the tan car's bumper- a very distinct dent that fit the contours of Edward's shoulders... as if he had braced himself against the car with enough force to damage the metal frame...

And then there was his family, looking on from the distance, with expressions that ranged from disapproval to fury but held no hint of concern for their brother's safety, or, for that matter, mine. I was so happy to know they really were sociopaths.

I tried to think of a logical solution that could explain what I had just seen- a solution that excluded the assumption that I was insane. Naturally, the ambulance got a police escort to the county hospital, courtesy of my dad. I felt ridiculous the whole time they were unloading me. What made it worse was watching Cullen smugly stride through the hospital doors as if he owned the place. I ground my teeth together.

They put me in the emergency room, a long room with a line of beds separated by pastel-patterned curtains. A nurse put a pressure cuff on my arm and a thermometer under my tongue. Since no one bothered pulling the curtain around to give me some privacy, I decided I wasn't obligated to wear the stupid-looking neck brace anymore. When the nurse walked away, I quickly unfastened the Velcro and threw it under the bed. Haha, take _that_, modern medicine!

There was another flurry of hospital personnel, another stretcher brought to the bed next to me. I recognized Tyler Crowley from my Government class beneath the bloodstained bandages wrapped tightly around his head. I felt sick at the sight of them. Tyler looked a hundred times worse than I felt. But he was staring anxiously at me.

"Bella, I'm so sorry!"

"I'm fine, Tyler- you look awful, are you all right?" He really did look bad, and I knew he hadn't tried to kill me on purpose; things had just happened to work out that way. As we spoke, nurses began unwinding his soiled bandages, exposing a myriad of shallow slices all over his forehead and left cheek. That looked like it had to hurt. I cringed in sympathy.

He ignored my question. "I thought I was going to kill you! I was going too fast, and I hit the ice wrong..." He winced as one nurse started dabbing at his face.

"Don't worry about it; you missed me." I assured him.

"How did you get out of the way so fast? You were there, and then you were gone..."

"Umm... Edward Cullen pulled me out of the way." I mumbled, not even liking the way it sounded coming out of my mouth.

He looked confused. "Who?"

"Edward Cullen- he was standing next to me." I didn't sound convincing at all, and I didn't care. It wasn't like I believed his claim.

"Cullen? I didn't see him... wow, it was all so fast, I guess. Is he okay?" Tyler asked, looking even more worried, now that he'd supposedly almost hit two people, instead of just one.

"I think so. He's here somewhere, but they didn't make him use a stretcher."

They wheeled me away then, to X-ray my head. I told them there was nothing wrong, and I was right. Not even a concussion. I asked if I could leave, but the nurse said I had to talk to a doctor first. So I was trapped in the ER, waiting. Tyler kept apologizing. I couldn't really blame him, since I'd be awkwardly doing the same thing if I was in his position. But no matter how many times I tried to convince him I was fine, he continued to repeat himself. Finally, I just closed my eyes.

"Is she sleeping?" a musical voice asked. My eyes flew open immediately.

Edward was standing at the foot of my bed, smirking, which seemed to be his default expression, besides the vicious glaring. I gave him a glare of my own.

"Hey, Edward, I'm really sorry-" Tyler began.

Edward lifted a hand to stop him.

"No blood, no foul," he said, flashing his teeth. He moved to sit on the edge of Tyler 's bed, facing me. He smirked again.

"So, what's the verdict?" he asked me.

"There's nothing wrong with me at all, but they won't let me go," I said coldly. "How come you aren't strapped to a gurney like the rest of us?"

"It's all about who you know," he answered. "But don't worry, I came to spring you."

Then a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouth fell open. He was young, he was blond... and he was handsome. He was pale, though, and tired-looking, with circles under his eyes. From Charlie's description, this had to be Edward's father.

"So, Miss Swan," Dr. Cullen said calmly, "how are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped. If I had to say it again I was going to screech it.

He walked to the lightboard on the wall over my head, and turned it on.

"Your X-rays look good," he said. "Does your head hurt? Edward said you hit it pretty hard."

Yeah, and that was his fault.

"It's fine," I almost yelped, throwing a quick scowl toward Edward.

The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. He noticed when I winced.

"Tender?" he asked.

"Not really." I lied.

I heard an infuriating chuckle, and looked over to see Edward's patronizing smile. My eyes narrowed until they were nearly slits.

"Well, your father is in the waiting room- you can go home with him now. But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at all."

"Can't I go back to school?" I asked, imagining Charlie trying to be attentive.

"Maybe you should take it easy today." he advised, looking caught off guard by my request. Most teenagers probably didn't ask of they could go back to school after almost getting hit by a car.

I glanced at Edward. "Does he get to go to school?" I asked petulantly, as if we were both six and he was receiving a sticker and I was not.

"Someone has to spread the good news that we survived," Edward said smugly.

I made a face at him.

"Actually," Dr. Cullen corrected, "most of the school seems to be in the waiting room."

"Oh no," I moaned, covering my face with my hands.

Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay?"

"No, no!" I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and hopping down quickly. Too quickly- I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught me. He looked concerned.

I gave him a falsely cheerful smile, intent on proving that I was physically and mentally well so I could get out of this place.

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggested as he steadied me.

"It doesn't hurt that bad," I said in what I hoped was a reassuring, happy tone.

"It sounds like you were extremely lucky," Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he signed my chart with a flourish.

"Lucky Edward happened to be standing next to me," I amended with a sharp glance at the subject of my statement.

"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in front of him.

Then he looked away, at Tyler, and walked to the next bed. My intuition flickered; the doctor was in on it. He had to be. He must know about his son's superpowers.

"I'm afraid that you'll have to stay with us just a little bit longer," he said to Tyler, and began checking his cuts.

As soon as the doctor's back was turned, I moved to Edward's side.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I snarled under my breath. He took a step back from me, his jaw suddenly clenched.

"Your father is waiting for you," he said through his teeth.

I glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tyler.

"I'd like to speak with you alone, if you don't mind," I pressed icily.

He glared, and then turned his back and strode down the long room. I nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner into a short hallway, he spun around to face me.

"What?" he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were almost lifeless.

"You owe me an explanation," I reminded him curtly.

"I saved your life- I don't owe you anything." he sneered.

I tried not to flinch back from the resentment in his voice. I should be used to it by now. "You promised." I shot back.

"Bella, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." His tone managed to be both condescending and cutting.

I glared defiantly at him. "There Is. Nothing. Wrong. With my head." I hissed. "And we both know it."

He glared back. "What do you want from me?"

"I want to know the truth," I said. "I want to know why I'm lying for you, because I think you know I could and probably should be telling everyone what really happened." I wasn't trying to straight out threaten him, but I was leaving it open for interpretation on his part.

"What do you think happened?" he snapped.

It came out in a rush, as it always seemed to with me when I was speaking, or arguing, for that matter, with him.

"All I know is that you weren't anywhere near me- Tyler didn't see you, either, so don't you dare tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to crush us both- and it didn't, and your hands left dents in the side of it- and you left a dent in the other car, and you're not hurt at all- and the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up..." I could hear how rambling and crazed it sounded, and I couldn't continue. I was so mad I could feel the tears coming; I tried to force them back by grinding my teeth together energetically.

He was staring at me incredulously. But his face was tense, defensive. He knew I knew something wasn't right; what I'd seen and what he claimed didn't add up, and he was angry that I was too smart and too stubborn to play the game. Instead I wanted to know the rules.

"You think I lifted a van off you?" His tone questioned my sanity, but it only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfectly delivered line by a skilled actor. He was trying so very hard to make me doubt what I'd seen, and the fact that he was getting so upset about it only confirmed it in my mind. If he had no reason to worry that I knew he could move so fast and be so strong, he would have just laughed in my face and walked away. But no. He was hanging around to make sure I wasn't going to tell anyone the truth. He was scared. _I _was scaring _him _right now. Or not me, specifically, but what I might do with this information. I felt a rush of confidence. Right now, I temporarily had the advantage. He seemed to be getting desperate.

I merely nodded once, my jaw tight and triumph flickering in my eyes.

"Nobody will believe that, you know." His voice held an edge of derision now.

"I'm not going to tell anybody." I said each word slowly, carefully controlling my anger, and wondered how he would react.

Surprise flitted across his face. "Then why does it matter?"

"It matters to me," I insisted. "I don't like to lie- so there'd better be a good reason why I'm doing it." I was already starting to regret saying I wouldn't tell anyone. If I had that hanging over his head, I could work it to my benefit. But I couldn't go back on my word now, and part of me did reluctantly feel for him. He seemed genuinely concerned about this. He was too upset to be arrogant and smug right now.

"Can't you just thank me and get over it?"

"Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant.

"You're not going to let it go, are you?" He seemed horrified by that prospect.

"No."

"In that case... I hope you enjoy disappointment." he retorted, looking like he was trying to save face.

We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, wanting an answer to at least one question that had been flitting around in the back of my mind this whole time.

"Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly.

He paused, and for a brief moment his hard, stone face was unexpectedly vulnerable, like a scared little boy's. "I don't know," he whispered.

"You might want to figure that out," I said nastily.

But he had already turned his back on me and was walking away.

I opened my mouth to yell after him to get his ass back here, but I couldn't find the words. I was silently crying in rage, my cheeks already wet. The boy who'd saved my life didn't even know why he'd bothered. I sniffed loudly and stopped my weeping. What was this, an afternoon soap opera? Crying wasn't going to get me the truth.

It took me a few minutes until I could be sure my face wasn't as red and puffy from my tears. When I'd calmed down, I made my way slowly to the exit at the end of the hallway.

The waiting room was more unpleasant than I'd feared. It seemed like every face I knew in Forks was there, staring at me. _Shouldn't you all be in classes?!_ I wanted to yell.

Charlie rushed to my side; I put up my hands.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I assured him sullenly. I was still aggravated, not in the mood for chitchat.

"What did the doctor say?" he wanted to know.

"Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home." I muttered. Mike and Jessica and Eric were all there, beginning to converge on us. "Let's go," I urged moodily.

Charlie put one arm behind my back, not quite touching me, and led me to the glass doors of the exit. I waved awkwardly at my friends, hoping to convey that they didn't need to worry anymore. It was a huge relief- the first time I'd ever felt that way- to get into the cruiser.

We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely knew Charlie was there. Cullen had gotten far more defensive than he should have, and I wasn't about to back down and admit he was right, even if I had somehow imagined the whole thing. I'd never had a terribly active imagination anyways. I stared out the window the whole ride, hands balled up in fists on my lap.

When we got to the house, Charlie finally spoke. "Um... you'll need to call Renée."

He hung his head, guilty.

I was appalled. "You told Mom?!"

"Sorry." he mumbled.

I slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than necessary on my way out, and stormed into the house. My dramatic exit was ruined by me skidding on the walkway and tripping up the steps, but I didn't care. Now I had to deal with Mom.

She was in hysterics, of course. I had to tell her I felt fine at least thirty times before she would calm down. She begged me to come home- forgetting the fact that home was empty at the moment- but her pleas were easier to resist than I would have thought. For one thing, I was pissed off. I couldn't get Cullen's words out of my mind.

_I don't owe you anything._

_You don't know what you're talking about._

_What do you want from me?_

_Nobody will believe that, you know._

_I hope you enjoy disappointment._

_I don't know._

For another thing, he had presented me with something I couldn't just let lie. Nothing like this had ever happened to me. I'd never met anyone like him before, and I was going to crack that mask wide open and figure out just who was really hiding behind it. No matter what. I suddenly had a reason to want to stay in Forks, an obsessive, unhealthy, twisted one, but a reason all the same. I ending up hanging up somewhat abruptly, and then felt bad, but I had told her I loved her, so I refused to let myself feel _too _bad.

I decided I might as well go to bed early that night. Charlie had been watching me anxiously all day, as if I might spontaneously combust, and it was getting on my nerves. I stopped on my way to grab three Tylenol from the bathroom. I'd never liked taking pills, but I gulped them down quickly with a glass of water. They did help, and, as the pain eased, I drifted to sleep. That was the first night I dreamed about Edward Cullen. But to be honest, my dream was more of a nightmare.


	4. Chapter 4

_Yes, the scene where Tyler asks Bella to the dance is cut out entirely. Yes, Bella decided to put her foot down and told Mike she wasn't interested. Yes, she's started calling Edward "Edward" regularly, rather than just "Cullen". And yes, she is agreeing to go to Seattle with him for a completely different reason. Enjoy!_

**4. Invitations  
**

In my nightmare there was darkness and there was Edward Cullen. I never saw his face, only his back, but I instinctively knew it was him. He was leaving me in the dark, and I didn't want to be alone, so I ran after him, but I couldn't catch up. I'd call after him desperately, screaming for him to just slow down, because being stuck with him in the dark was better than being alone, but he never turned around. I felt like he had a flashlight or lantern or some sort, because there seemed to be some sort of dim light coming from him, but I couldn't tell what its source was. The dream ended with me falling, and losing sight of him entirely, before I woke up with a scream. I couldn't sleep again for what seemed like a very long time. And after that, I dreamed that dream, or ones very similar, every night. They were eerie and disturbing, and he always left me in the dark in the end.

The month that followed the accident was uneasy, tense, and, at first, embarrassing. To my dismay, I found myself the center of attention for the rest of that week. For a while, the lunch table I sat at with my friends was packed with people I didn't even know, all wanting to hear about my near-death experience. Tyler Crowley understandably kept his distance, but seemed to still apologize with the look in his eyes every time he saw me.

Cullen was never surrounded by crowds of curious bystanders eager for his firsthand account. People avoided him as usual. The Cullens and the Hales sat at the same table as always, not eating, talking only among themselves. None of them, especially Edward, glanced my way anymore. I wasn't sure whether to be relieved or not, as lately everything about him confused me and the constant nightmares weren't helping either. had begrudgingly explained to people a few times that he had, to be completely honest, been rather heroic, in saving me from certain death, but I wasn't surprised or very perturbed by the fact that no one seemed to care about his role in the whole thing. What did bother me, though, was that no one but me ever really paid him any mind. I was the only one ever noticed him, and I wanted it to stop. Either everyone else had to notice and be creeped out by him too, or I wanted to forget him entirely. It was easier said than done, at least for me.

When he sat next to me in class, as far from me as the table would allow, he seemed totally unaware of my presence. Only now and then, when his fists would suddenly ball up- skin stretched even whiter over the bone- was it clear if he wasn't quite as oblivious as he appeared. Hm. Maybe I wasn't the only one having nightmares, though the idea of me haunting his dreams was laughable enough to make develop a twitchy little grin now and then during Biology.

He wished he hadn't pulled me from the path of Tyler 's van- there was no other conclusion I could come to. I probably should have felt more depressed about that than I actually did. Why should I expect him to care about me? We'd had a grand total of two conversations. Neither had been what I'd call polite or friendly. But to actively wish I had died, and that he hadn't interfered… It just seemed a little extreme.

I wanted very much to talk to him, and the day after the accident I tried. The last time I'd seen him, outside the ER, we'd both been so furious. I was still furious, though luckily no longer to the point where I felt as if I was about to cry. My anger had died down a little but it was still there, bubbling under the surface. But I suspected if I wanted to get anything more out of him I was going to have to resort to false niceties and make an attempt at civil discussion. He'd saved my life, but I figured I didn't have to be _too_ grateful, since he regretted it.

He was already seated when I got to Biology, looking straight ahead. I sat down, expecting him to turn toward me. He showed no sign that he realized I was there.

"Hello, Edward," I said pleasantly, to show him I was going to behave myself.

He turned his head a fraction toward me without meeting my gaze, nodded once, and then looked the other way. I sat there in brewing indignation and outrage for the rest of class. When the bell rang I jumped up before even he could, flipped my hair over my shoulder, grabbed my things, and stalked over to where Mike was, who of course looked thrilled at this.

And that was the last contact I'd had with him, though he was there, a foot away from me, every day. I watched at him often, sometimes with a glare, sometimes with a fake smile. His eyes got darker with every passing day. I pretended like that didn't scare me.

But in class I gave no more notice that he existed than he showed toward me. Two could play that game. I was spiteful and always in a mood, and always tired as well, since the nightmares continued. I was starting to get shadows under my eyes just like _them _and I hated it. Cullen was turning me into a monster.

Despite my outright lies, the tenor of my e-mails alerted Renée to my depression, and she called a few times, worried. I tried to convince her it was just the weather that had me down. It certainly was helping, anyways.

Mike, at least, was pleased by the obvious coolness between me and my lab partner. I could see he'd been worried that Edward's daring rescue might have impressed me, and he was relieved that it seemed to have the opposite effect. He grew more confident, sitting on the edge of my table to talk before Biology class started, ignoring Edward as completely as he ignored us. I tried to be subdued with Mike, but it was hard to be cold with him, and he did get little almost smiles out of me now and then. Still, whenever Jessica was around I immediately tried to subtly direct him towards her.

The snow washed away for good after that one dangerously icy day. Mike was disappointed he'd never gotten to stage his snowball fight, but pleased that the beach trip would soon be possible. The rain continued heavily, though, and the weeks passed. Jessica made me aware of another event looming on the horizon- she called the first Tuesday of March to ask my permission to invite Mike to the girls' choice spring dance in two weeks.

"Are you sure you don't mind... you weren't planning to ask him?" she persisted when I brightly told her I didn't mind in the least.

"No, Jess, I'm not going," I assured her. Dancing was glaringly outside my range of abilities. I sometimes jumped around, to my shame, while listening to music, but it was about as far from dancing as one could possibly get.

"It will be really fun." Her attempt to convince me was halfhearted. Of course she wasn't keen on me going- why would she be? If I went Mike would probably try to bribe me into asking him or something. I wasn't about to steal her thunder. Let her and Mike dance the night away. I was pretty sure I'd survive. I'd never gone to any school dances back in Phoenix and I had no intentions of going to any here.

"You have fun with Mike," I encouraged in what I considered my most cheerful tone, which was really probably just a decibel or two higher than my normal dry voice.

The next day, I was surprised that Jessica wasn't her usual gushing self in Trig and Spanish. She was silent as she walked by my side between classes, and I was afraid to ask her why. If Mike had turned her down, I was the last person she would want to tell. Honestly, she'd probably slap me if I mentioned Mike or the dance right now, and I wouldn't really blame her.

My fears were strengthened during lunch when Jessica sat as far from Mike as possible, chatting animatedly with Eric. Yep. If she was deigning to chat with Eric, she had to be pretty pissed at Mike. Mike was unusually quiet, and cast glancing between me and Jessica and Eric with a strange look on his face. I stopped myself from practically shoving him at Jessica once or twice during the course of lunch. This was getting ridiculous.

Mike was still quiet as he walked me to class, the uncomfortable look on his face a bad sign. But he didn't broach the subject until I was in my seat and he was perched on my desk. As always, I was electrically aware of Cullen sitting close enough to touch, as distant as if he were merely an invention of my imagination. My least favorite hallucination, if you will. And as always, I had to deal with the temptation to just elbow him in the stomach really, really hard and break that perfect composure.

"So," Mike said, looking at the floor, "Jessica asked me to the spring dance."

"That's great." I made my voice bright and enthusiastic. "You'll have a lot of fun with Jessica."

"Well..." He floundered as he examined my smile, clearly not happy with my response. "I told her I had to think about it."

"Why would you do that?!" I demanded, smile fracturing. I let disapproval color my tone, though I was relieved he hadn't given her an absolute no. There was still hope for Operation Get Them Together.

His face was bright red as he looked down again.

I kept a merciless scowl on my face.

"I was wondering if... well, if you might be planning to ask me."

I almost let my palm smack into my forehead.

Out of the corner of my eye, I could have sworn I saw Cullen's head tilt just the slightest bit reflexively in my direction. I couldn't let him distract me, though, because now was the time to make things clear to Mike. This was going to be awkward and painful but if I didn't do it now I knew I'd never have the nerves to say anything again.

"Mike, I think you should tell her yes," I said flatly, and tried not to feel any pity for the poor boy.

"Did you already ask someone?"

Did Cullen notice how Mike's eyes flickered in his direction?

I felt like retching at the thought. As if I would be asking _him _to any dance.

"No," I told him firmly, trying not to sound too annoyed. "I'm not going to the dance at all."

"Why not?" Mike demanded.

I didn't want to get into the safety hazards that dancing presented, so I quickly made new plans.

"I'm going to Seattle that Saturday," I explained. I needed to get out of town anyway- it was suddenly the perfect time to go.

"Can't you go some other weekend?" he asked plaintively.

"Sorry, no," I said. "So you shouldn't make Jess wait any longer- it's rude." I took a deep breath. "And Mike… I… Look, I'm sorry, but I don't like you that way. And you're an idiot if you haven't seen the way that girl looks at you. You too would be great together. Really."

He stared at me in shock for a good few moments, something flickering in his eyes.

I gave him a _seriously, dude_ stare.

"I… okay," he finally mumbled, and walked back to his seat. He looked dejected but also surprised, and not in a bad way.

I closed my eyes and pressed my fingers to my temples, trying to push the guilt and sympathy out of my head, though I also felt a bit triumphant. Mike really wasn't that much of an idiot, and I knew now Jess was definitely on his mind. Perhaps I really would make a good matchmaker. Mr. Banner began talking. I sighed and opened my eyes.

And Cullen was staring at me curiously, that same, familiar edge of frustration even more distinct now in his black eyes.

I stared back, surprised, expecting him to look quickly away. But instead he continued to gaze with probing intensity into my eyes. I quickly morphed my expression of surprise into one of practiced apathy. My hands were shaking a little and I wasn't sure if it was because I was mad or afraid, or a combination of both.

"Mr. Cullen?" the teacher called, seeking the answer to a question that I hadn't heard.

"The Krebs Cycle," he answered, seeming reluctant as he turned to look at Mr.  
Banner.

I looked back down at my book, shoving my hair between us, little coward that I was. This was the first time he'd looked at me in half a dozen weeks. The fact that he could influence my reactions and moods so much was alarming. I felt pathetic. He was always in my head now, and I couldn't make his pale face and stupid red brown hair and frightening, shifting eyes go away.

I tried very hard not to be aware of him for the rest of the hour, and, since that was impossible, at least not to let him know that I was aware of him. When the bell rang at last, I turned my back to him to gather my things, expecting him to leave immediately as usual.

"Bella?" His voice shouldn't have been so familiar to me, as if I'd known the sound of it for a long time rather than for just a few short weeks.

I turned slowly, unwillingly. My expression was wary when I finally turned to him; his expression was unreadable. He didn't say anything. I rapidly lost patience with this little show of attention-seeking.

"What? Are you speaking to me again?" I finally asked, an unintentional note of petulance in my voice. Splendid. Now I sounded like a five year old.

His lips twitched, fighting a smile. "No, not really," he admitted.

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly through my nose, aware that I was gritting my teeth.

"Then what do you want?" I asked, keeping my eyes closed; it was easier to talk to him coherently that way.

"I'm sorry." He sounded sincere. "I'm being very rude, I know. But it's better this way, really."

I opened my eyes. His face was very serious.

"I don't know what you mean," I said, my voice guarded. Oh, he'd lost it, utterly and completely. He'd stopped even making the slightest bit of sense.

"It's better if we're not friends," he explained. "Trust me."

My eyes narrowed. Since when did I want to be friends with him?! I just wanted to know what the hell was going on with him, and for that matter, his family, and how he'd manage to lift a freaking van off me! "It's too bad you didn't figure that out earlier," I hissed through my teeth. "You could have saved yourself all this regret."

"Regret?" The word, and my tone, obviously caught him off guard. "Regret for what?"

"For not just letting that stupid van squish me." I spat. I was pretty sure spittle had flown.

He was astonished. He stared at me in disbelief. When he finally spoke, he almost sounded mad. "You think I regret saving your life?"

"I know you do," I snapped. "You fucking said it, Edward." I then clamped my mouth shut. I never called him Edward in my head. Actually saying his name felt strange in my mouth. And he'd made me curse, which I generally tried to avoid.

"You don't know anything." He was definitely mad.

I turned my head sharply away from him, clenching my jaw against all the less than polite names I wanted to screech at him.

I gathered my books together, then stood and walked to the door. I meant to sweep dramatically out of the room, but of course I caught the toe of my boot on the door jamb and dropped my books. I stood there seeing red for a moment, thinking about leaving them. Then I sighed and bent to pick them up. He was there; he'd already stacked them into a pile. He handed them to me, his face hard.

"Thank you," I said icily as I snatched them away from them and held them protectively to my chest. _Don't worry, beloved Biology textbook. I won't let the scary boy hurt you._

His eyes narrowed. "You're welcome," he retorted.

I straightened up swiftly, turned away from him again, and marched off to Gym without looking back. Gym was brutal. We'd moved on to basketball. My team never passed me the ball, so that was good, but I fell down a lot. Sometimes I took people with me, to both of our horror. Today I was worse than usual because my head was so filled with Edward. I gave up on referring to him by his last name. It was too hard when his sullen visage was imprinted on my brain. I tried to concentrate on my feet, but he kept creeping back into my thoughts just when I really needed my balance. I got my fair share of dirty looks, as no one really had any patience for my inability to handle anything athletic anymore.

It was a relief, as always, to leave. I almost ran to the truck; there were just so many people I wanted to avoid. The truck had suffered only minimal damage in the accident. I'd had to replace the taillights, and if I'd had a real paint job, I would have touched that up.

Tyler's parents had to sell their van for parts.

I almost had a stroke when I rounded the corner and saw a tall, dark figure leaning against the side of my truck. Then I realized it was just Eric, recognizing the black hair and unfortunately, the blemishes. I started walking again, though I did drag my feet a little. I had a good idea of what was coming.

"Hey, Eric," I called dully.

"Hi, Bella."

"What's up?" I said as I was unlocking the door, really hoping he just wanted to chat about homework or something for a few minutes.

"Uh, I was just wondering... if you would go to the spring dance with me?" His voice broke on the last word. I winced.

"I thought it was girls' choice," I countered with a silent sigh, opening my door.

"Well, yeah," he admitted, shamefaced.

I was still recovering from another disastrous conversation with Edward, and it showed. "I'm going to be in Seattle that day." I said in a voice that could have frozen hell.

"Oh," he said. "Well, maybe next time." He slouched off before I had a chance to respond, back toward the school. I was just starting to feel sort of crappy about how I'd handled that when I heard a low chuckle.

Edward was walking past the front of my truck, looking straight forward, his lips pressed together. I yanked the door open and jumped inside, slamming it loudly behind me. I revved the engine deafeningly and reversed out into the aisle. Edward was in his car already, two spaces down, sliding out smoothly in front of me, cutting me off. I swore under my breath. He stopped there- to wait for his family; I could see the four of them walking this way, but still by the cafeteria. I considered taking out the rear of his shiny Volvo, but there were too many witnesses. I looked in my rearview mirror. A line was beginning to form. Directly behind me, Tyler Crowley was in his recently acquired used Sentra, and he gave a horribly awkward little wave. I felt a wave of empathy, and waved back just as awkwardly. Then I cranked up the one radio station in town, and was pleased to find that were playing something by Linkin Park. I had a fondness for both rock and classical music, which usually surprised people.

"I need you to scream, 'til your lungs get sore!" I sang loudly, confident no one could hear me over the sound of my engine and the noise of all the other cars idling behind me in line. "I'm tired of being what you want me to be; feeling so faithless, lost under the surface… Don't know what you're expecting of me, put under the pressure of walking in your shoes…"

The Cullens and Hales were taking their sweet time strutting across the parking lot like a group of proud peacocks, and a few people were starting to honk. I continued to let out my frustration through screaming long to the lyrics, bouncing a little in my seat. "I'VE BECOME SO NUMB, I CAN'T FEEL YOU THERE! I'VE BECOME SO TIRED, SO MUCH MORE AWARE!" And then I happened to glance out my window and realized in horror that it was halfway down. In fact, both of my windows were rolled partly down.

All the blood in my body seemed to rush to my face as I spotted a few curious faces in other cars and of people walking by. This was going to be circulating school by tomorrow, I just knew it. Bella Swan, rocking out in her car to the radio like a raging punk. And worst of all, I looked forward to see Alice, Rosalie, Emmett, and Jasper all sliding into the Volvo. In his rearview mirror, Edward's eyes were on me. He was unquestionably shaking with laughter, and I knew he must have heard my very out of tune singing. I switched off the radio abruptly. My foot itched toward the gas pedal... one little bump wouldn't hurt any of them, just that glossy silver paint job. I revved the engine with a murderous look on my flushed face. But they were all in, and Edward was speeding away. I drove home slowly, carefully, muttering to myself the whole way.

When I got home, I decided to make chicken enchiladas for dinner. I was starting to realize just how much I liked cooking. Mom had done the majority of it back in Phoenix, or we had simply went out or ordered in. But there was something about methodical and precise cooking had to be that calmed me inside. It made me feel content. Making enchiladas was a long process, and it would keep me busy. I'd looked up the recipe a few days ago on the internet, and printed it out and stuck it on the fridge with a magnet. I consulted it continuously. While I was simmering the onions and chilies, the phone rang. I was almost afraid to answer it, but it might be Charlie or my mom.

It was Jessica, and she was jubilant; Mike had caught her after school to accept her invitation. I celebrated with her briefly while I stirred. She had to go; she wanted to call Angela and Lauren to tell them. I suggested- with casual innocence- that maybe Angela, the shy girl who had Biology with me, could ask Eric. And Lauren, a standoffish girl who had always ignored me at the lunch table, could ask Tyler; I'd heard he was still available. Jess thought that was a great idea. Now that she was sure of Mike, she actually sounded sincere when she said she wished I would go to the dance. I gave her my Seattle excuse but thanked her anyways.

After I hung up, I tried to concentrate on dinner- dicing the chicken especially; I didn't want to take another trip to the emergency room, and I didn't do well with the sight of blood. But my head was spinning, trying to analyze every word Edward had spoken today. What did he mean, it was better if we weren't friends? Was this some, _stay away from me, I'm a dangerous bad boy_ thing? Maybe he thought if he warned me off, I'd drop the questions and leave him be.

My stomach twisted and I slammed the knife down into the cutting board. He was _not _going to scare me away and I was _not _going to just let this slide. He'd saved me life, like it or not, and I wanted to know how and why. My eyes were stinging from the onion I was peeling and I turned away from it, leaning heavily against the kitchen counter. As soon as I got the truth from him, the whole story, I was done. I'd leave him alone, and I'd get through my stay in Forks until I graduated. Hopefully some school in the Southwest, or possibly Hawaii, would offer me a scholarship. I focused my thoughts on sunny beaches and palm trees as I finished the enchiladas and put them in the oven.

Charlie seemed suspicious when he came home and smelled the green peppers. I couldn't blame him- the closest edible Mexican food was probably in southern  
California. But he was a cop, even if just small-town cops, so he was brave enough to take the first bite. He seemed to like it. It was fun to watch as he slowly began trusting me in the kitchen. I watched him eat with a small grin, and dug into my own food. I hadn't had enchiladas since I was in Phoenix, and a wave of nostalgia hit me for hard for a few moments, but it subsided. I didn't get the ache in my chest as bad from memories of home. It was slowly getting better; like there was a hole in my heart slowly knitting itself back together.

"Dad?" I asked when he was almost done.

"Yeah, Bella?"

"Um, I just wanted to let you know that I'm going to Seattle for the day a week from Saturday... if that's okay?" I didn't want to ask permission- it set a bad precedent- but I felt rude, so I tacked it on at the end.

"Why?" He sounded surprised, as if he were unable to imagine something that Forks couldn't offer.

"Well, I wanted to get few books- the library here is pretty limited- and maybe look at some clothes." I had more money than I was used to having, since, thanks to Charlie, I hadn't had to pay for a car. Not that the truck didn't cost me quite a bit in the gas department.

"That truck probably doesn't get very good gas mileage," he said, echoing my thoughts.

"I know, I'll stop in Montesano and Olympia- and Tacoma if I have to."

"Are you going all by yourself?" he asked, and I couldn't tell if he was suspicious I had a secret boyfriend or just worried about car trouble.

"Yes." I replied calmly.

"Seattle is a big city- you could get lost," he fretted.

"Dad, Phoenix is five times the size of Seattle- and I can read a map, don't worry about it." I tried not to sound too exasperated. I just wasn't used to having a parent actually worry about me getting lost. Mom worried, sure, but never about me walking around the city by myself. As long as I left a note and was home before it started to get dark out, she didn't mind. I think she knew I was the more responsible of the two of us, anyways, and figured I'd be better at looking after myself than she was a lot of times.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

I tried to be crafty as I hid my horror. "That's all right, Dad, I'll probably just be in dressing rooms all day- very boring." That was a half truth. In reality, I didn't really like shopping for clothes. I wore simple, nondescript things. Nothing too flashy or expensive. I was a big fan of good jeans and flannel shirts, though I did know how to clean myself up nicely. I knew what looked good on me and what didn't, a sense I'd inherited from my mom. She knew how to dress so that she looked a good five years younger without looking trashy. But I did need to buy some clothes, especially ones for colder weather. I was getting tired of constantly wearing the same long sleeve shirts and some sweatshirts and boots would be nice.

"Oh, okay." The thought of sitting in women's clothing stores for any period of time immediately put him off.

"Thanks." I smiled at him, happy at my success.

"Will you be back in time for the dance?"

The smile vanished. Grrr. Only in a town this small would a father know when the high school dances were.

"No- I don't dance, Dad." I explained simply. He, of all people, should understand that- I didn't get my balance problems from my mother.

He did understand. "Oh, that's right," he realized.

The next morning, when I pulled into the parking lot, I deliberately parked as far as possible from the silver Volvo. I didn't want to put myself in the path of too much temptation and end up owing him a new car as well as my life. Getting out of the cab, I fumbled with my key and it fell into a puddle at my feet. As I bent to get it, a white hand flashed out and grabbed it before I could. I jerked upright.

Edward Cullen was right next to me, leaning casually against my truck.

"How do you do that?" I asked in irritation.

"Do what?" He held my key out as he spoke.

As I reached for it, he dropped it into my palm. My fist closed around it like a trap.

"Appear out of thin air."

"Bella, it's not my fault if you are exceptionally unobservant." His voice was quiet as  
usual- soft and muted.

I scowled at him and pulled up my hood. His eyes were light again today, a deep, golden honey color. Then I had to look down, to reassemble my now-tangled thoughts.

"Why the traffic jam last night?" I demanded, still looking away. "I thought you were supposed to be pretending I don't exist, not irritating me to death."

"I couldn't help myself. I saw Tyler behind you and thought he might want to have a chance to ask you, just in case you were letting Mike and Eric down easy. But you seemed more interested in auditioning for American Idol." He snickered.

"You..." I gasped. I couldn't think of a bad enough word. It felt like the heat of my anger should physically burn him, but he only seemed more amused. I debated slashing at him with my key, but he'd probably dodge. "He didn't ask me out! He waved at me! And I waved back! And there is nothing wrong with singing along to the radio, you stuck up, idiotic-

"And I'm not pretending you don't exist," he continued, interrupting my rant.

"So you are trying to irritate me to death? Since Tyler 's van didn't do the job?" I got in that jab, knowing it would shut him down fast.

Anger flashed in his eyes. His lips pressed into a hard line, all signs of humor gone.

I smirked a little, but my fist with my key in it was still clenched.

"Bella, you are utterly absurd," he said, his low voice cold.

"Shut up," I snapped. My palms tingled- I wanted so badly to hit something. I turned my back and started to walk away, before I tackled him and tried to gouge out one of his stupid, color-changing eyes with my key.

"Wait," he called. I kept walking, sloshing angrily through the rain. But he was next to me, easily keeping pace. Curse those skinny, long legs of his.

"I'm sorry, that was rude," he said as we walked. I ignored him. "I'm not saying it isn't true," he continued, "but it was rude to say it, anyway."

"Leave me alone, Edward. You're insane and it's too early for me to handle this."

"I wanted to ask you something, but you sidetracked me," he chuckled. He seemed to have recovered his good humor.

"Do you have a multiple personality disorder?" I asked severely, not even looking at him.

"You're doing it again." he said in an almost mocking voice.

I huffed out a short burst of air. Trying to out walk him was tiring, especially when I was slogging through puddles. "Just spit it out already." I said heatedly.

"I was wondering if, a week from Saturday- you know, the day of the spring dance-" he began.

"Are you trying to be funny?" I interrupted him, wheeling toward him. My face got drenched as I looked up at his expression. "Because I'm failing to see the humor, Chuckles."

His eyes were wickedly glinting. "Chuckles?"

"You're always doing that creepy little _heh heh heh _thing, like a hyena with asthma. Stop doing that. It's disturbing." I said coldly.

"Fine. Will you please just allow me to finish?"

I bit my lip so hard it turned white and clasped my hands together, interlocking my fingers, so I couldn't do anything rash. Yes. Rash and immensely satisfying, like kneeing him in the groin and walking away.

"I heard you say you were going to Seattle that day, and I was wondering if you wanted a ride." he finally finished.

That was unexpected.

"What?" I wasn't sure what he was getting at.

"Do you want a ride to Seattle ?"

"With who?" I asked, mystified, narrowing my eyes at him.

"Myself, obviously." He enunciated every syllable, as if he were talking to someone mentally handicapped.

I was still stunned. "Why?"

"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be honest, I'm not sure if your truck can make it." he rationalized, as if he was making perfect sense.

"My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern. And I don't think I want to ride in the same car as you. Like, ever." Was he plotting to murder me and using the _I'll give you a ride!_ bullshit to lure me into his vehicle, so we could drive to an unknown location and he could kill me and dump the body? Whatever his evil plan was, I wasn't falling for it. I started to walk again, my anger only slightly lessened because he had caught me so off-guard. This was, again, the boy who had just yesterday told me it was better if we weren't friends. Now he wanted to drive me to Seattle?

"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my pace again, evidently not dissuaded.

"I don't see how that is any of your business." Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business." He said it like a taunt.

"Honestly, Edward. I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to be my friend. See, us being friends would require things like _honesty _and _explanations_." I sneered.

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want to be."

"Oh, thanks, now that's all cleared up. "Heavy sarcasm. I realized I had stopped walking again. We were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof now, so I could more easily look at his face. Which certainly didn't improve my mood.

"It would be more...prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained. "But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."

"You really have lost it." I commented dryly. "This is a new low, even for you. Trying to pretend you're interested in me won't convince me to get into your car with you."

He looked at me like I'd just killed a man in front of him, speechless.

I had a sudden idea that was both very clever and very stupid. "But you know what will? Answers. You have them. I want them. You want to give me a ride?" I smiled. "Let's hear the truth."

He seemed to have developed a bit of a twitch in his temple. "If I agree, will you go with me to Seattle?"

I nodded.

He grimaced. My smile grew ever-wider.

"You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class." He turned abruptly and walked back the way we'd come.

"Is that a yes?" I called after him.


	5. Chapter 5

_This chapter took a bit longer... Anyways, thanks for the five reviews in total now, five favorites, and five followers!_

**5. Blood Type**

I made my way to English looking like I'd won the lottery. I'd done it. I'd bested him at his own twisted little game. Finally, finally, I was going to get some answers out of him. I didn't even realize when I first walked in that class had already started.

"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging tone.

I flushed and hurried to my seat.

It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting in his usual seat next to me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Eric both met me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven, though I was dismayed to see that I hadn't alienated Eric, either. Mike seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he talked about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would be possible. I tried to sound as eager as possible, though I still wasn't looking forward to the beach. It was hard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high forties, if we were lucky. I hoped there'd be a bonfire. The wind off the ocean would make it even colder.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was difficult to believe that I'd made a deal with Edward Cullen, and that I was crazy enough to let him drive me to Seattle. But, hey, anything for the truth, right? I'd be packing pepper spray anyways. Chuckles tried anything weird, and he'd be getting it right in the eyes. Of course that might result in a car crash, but I could probably wrestle the wheel from him if need be, right? I hoped so, anyways.

I was still a bit wary of him backing out on our bargain, though, so I prepared to pay close attention to him as Jessica and I entered the cafeteria. If he looked cold and indifferent, as usual, I wasn't sure what I'd do. Would that mean he'd reconsidered?

Jessica babbled on and on about her dance plans- Lauren and Angela had asked the other boys and they were all going together- completely unaware of my inattention. I felt bad about everything she said going in one ear and out the other, but I was preoccupied with other thoughts.

Disappointment flooded through me as my eyes unerringly focused on his table. The other four were there, but he was absent. Had he gone home? Had he been that annoyed with my cunning scheme? I had to admit, I probably infuriated him on a regular basis. But I doubted it ever neared the extent to which he typically enraged me. I followed the still-babbling Jessica through the line with uncertainty. I'd been looking forward to sneaking him gloating looks all lunch and now I'd lost my appetite- I bought nothing but a bottle of lemonade. I just wanted to go sit down and sulk.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica said, finally breaking through my abstraction with his name. "I wonder why he's sitting alone today." My head snapped up in shock. I followed her gaze to see Edward, smiling crookedly, staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned with his index finger for me to join him. As I stared in disbelief, he winked.

What. The. Fu-

"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked with astonishment in her voice.

I debated whether or not to be insulted by that, but was mostly too busy staring at him incredulously to care. Winking now? Who was he, Santa Claus? That reminded me of the time I'd been forced to sit on Santa in a department store in Phoenix when I was four. I'd thrown up on him. Good times.

"Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework," I muttered for her benefit, but it was obvious even I didn't believe myself. "Um, I'd better go see what he wants."

I could feel her staring after me as I walked away.

When I reached his table, I stood behind the chair across from him, crossing my arms.

"Why don't you sit with me today?" he asked, smiling.

I sat down slowly, watching him with caution. He was still smiling. This level of apparent content and serenity was probably a bad sign.

He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"This is different," I finally managed. "You seem… jovial. Jolly. Merry. Carefree. Untroubled. Gleeful, even. Did you just commit a crime and get away with it?" I questioned, mostly serious.

The image of the cat that ate the canary came to mind.

"Well..." He paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly." He announced it with what seemed to be no small amount of relief in his tone.

I waited for him to say something that made sense. The seconds ticked by. I studied the wrapper on my bottle of lemonade and waited.

"You know I don't have any idea what you mean," I eventually pointed out, when it became clear that was all he had really wanted to tell me. "But if you're asking for some advice, I'd suggest starting with the good old seven deadly sins. Can't go wrong with a little gluttony, a bit of wrath, though I think you got that one down pat, some sloth for good measure, you practically scream pride, who are we kidding here, maybe some lust and greed thrown into the mix, and a touch of envy, and you should be good. Hell will be begging for you."

"I know." He smiled that unnerving smile again, and then he changed the subject. "I think your friends are angry with me for stealing you."

"I'll have you know I came over of my own free volition. And I think they'll survive." I could feel their stares boring into my back.

"I may not give you back, though," he said with that particular glint reappearing in his eyes.

I snorted. "Bring it on, Eddy-boy." I drawled. "I know your secret weakness, anyhow."

He laughed, but stiffened a little. "Oh really?"

"Yes, really. Two words: strawberry shampoo."

He seemed to relax, as if he had been expecting to hear something much different, and cracked up laughing, shaking silently in an effort to not lose his composure. I'll admit, I giggled a little.

"I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving up." He was still smiling as he effortlessly changed the subject, but his eyes were deadly serious.

"Giving up?" I repeated in confusion, my laugher abruptly fading away. I sat back a little in my seat.

"Yes- giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now, and let the chips fall where they may." His smile faded as he explained, and a hard edge crept into his voice.

"You lost me again." I said warily.

The crooked smile reappeared.

"I always say too much when I'm talking to you- that's one of the problems."

"Don't worry- I don't understand most of it and the little bits I do understand I immediately dismiss as the ramblings of a madman," I said wryly.

"I'm counting on that."

"So, in plain English, is this you saying you want to be friends now?" I asked, starting to get impatient for him to get to the point.

"Friends..." he mused, dubious.

"Or not," I muttered. "I'm perfectly fine with being mortal enemies. That's cool too."

He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that I'm not a good friend for you." Behind his smile, the warning was real.

"You say that a lot," I noted. "Is it because I bring out the worst in you? Or because you're afraid of bringing out the worst in me?" I tried to look intimidating. "You're not the only one who can be creepy, you know."

"If you're smart, you'll avoid me." he replied evenly.

"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear, too." My eyes narrowed. "And you _are _driving me to Seattle, remember? I foresee me avoiding you being rather difficult when we're in the same car."

He looked somewhat sheepish and said nothing.

"So, as long as I'm being... not smart, and you're on the fast-track to hell, we'll try to be friends?" I struggled to sum up the whole confusing exchange.

"That sounds about right." he agreed.

I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure what to do  
now.

"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.

I looked up into his eyes, reminded myself subtlety was key, and still blurted out the truth, as usual with him.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are." I tried to make it out to be a joke, but it fell flat.

His jaw tightened, but he kept his smile in place with some effort. He was making the constipated face again. I choked a little on my sip of lemonade, but luckily he didn't seem to notice.

"Are you having any luck with that?" he asked in an offhand tone.

"Not too much," I admitted.

He smirked, looking slightly relieved. "What are your theories?"

I went beet red. I had been vacillating during the last month between Bruce Wayne and Peter Parker. There was no way I was going to own up to that, or to the little known fact that I had indeed spent the majority of my afternoons after school in junior high in a tiny comic shop, flipping through page after page of heroes and villains, and to the shock of my relatively innocent twelve year old self, scantily clad females.

"Won't you tell me?" he asked, tilting his head to one side with a disgustingly indecent  
smile.

I shook my head. "Too embarrassing." I said shortly, not falling for the boyish grin and wide eyes. He had ridiculously long eyelashes for a boy. I was sure mine were shorter.

"That's really frustrating, you know," he whined.

"No," I retorted, "I can't imagine why that would be frustrating at all- just because someone refuses to tell you what they're thinking, even if all the while they're making cryptic little remarks specifically designed to keep you up at night wondering what they could possibly mean... now, why would that be frustrating?" My voice had reached a high, mocking pitch by that point, and I tapped my nails on table for emphasis.

He grimaced.

"Or better," I continued, the pent-up annoyance flowing freely now, "Say that person also did a wide range of bizarre things- from saving your life under impossible circumstances one day to treating you like a pariah the next, and he never explained any of that, either, even after he promised. That, also, would be very non-frustrating."

"You've got a bit of a temper, don't you?" he commented dryly.

"I don't like double standards." I said with artificial sweetness.

We stared at each other, unsmiling. Our conversations always seemed to end with "if looks could kill" on both sides.

He averted his eyes and glanced over my shoulder, and then, unexpectedly, he snickered.

"What?" I snapped, immediately on edge. I whipped my head around to see my friends still staring and Mike looking like he was about to get up. I glared at him and shook my head. Jessica tugged him back down, gaping at Edward and me.

"Your boyfriend seems to think I'm being unpleasant to you- he's debating whether or not to come break up our fight." He snickered again.

"Mike is not my boyfriend," I said frostily. "Or weren't you eavesdropping in Biology?"

He rolled his eyes. "Most people are easy to read."

"Except me, of course."

"Yes. Except for you." His mood shifted suddenly; his eyes turned brooding. "I wonder why that is."

I had to look away from Dark and Brooding, before I said something that might make him reconsider our deal. I concentrated on unscrewing the lid of my lemonade. I took a swig, staring at the table without seeing it. Why couldn't he read me? If he could, I was sure he'd be rubbing it in my face in his usual condescending manner left and right.

"Aren't you hungry?" he asked, distracted.

"No." I didn't feel like mentioning that I actually was starting to feel like eating something. I'd regained my appetite rapidly. "You?" I looked at the empty table in front of him.

"No, I'm not hungry." I didn't understand his expression- it looked like he was enjoying some private joke.

I raised my eyebrows. "On a diet or something?" Every other teenage boy I met seemed to be always eating, all the time. I knew most girls my age seemed to eat like birds; no one wanted to look like a pig, but in Forks girls seemed to care less about that sort of thing anyways. Most of them had no problem wearing worn jeans and hiking boots to school, if they felt like it. With the weather here, I could see how skirts and heels weren't very practical.

Edward seemed about to say something but stopped himself.

"Can you do me a favor?" I asked after a second more of silence.

He was suddenly wary. "That depends on what you want."

"It's not much," I told him. It wasn't like I was about to demand his firstborn child or something like that.

He waited, guarded but curious.

"I just wondered if you could warn me beforehand the next time you decide to ignore me for my 'own good'. Just so I'm prepared." I requested, only a little bit of sarcasm in my tone. I traced the circle of the opening of the lemonade bottle with my pinkie finger idly as I waited for an answer.

"That sounds fair." He was pressing his lips together to keep from laughing when I looked up.

"Thanks." I wasn't sure if I should be offended by how amused he was or not.

"Then can I have one answer in return?" he demanded. "One. Tell me one theory."

Whoops. "Not that one." I exclaimed, going red.

"You didn't clarify, you just promised one answer," he reminded me deviously.

"And you've broken promises yourself," I shot back.

"Just one theory- I won't laugh." he swore.

"Yes, you will." I was positive about that. He was always either furious with me or laughing at me.

He looked down, and then glanced up at me through his eyelashes.

"Are you going to flutter your eyelashes at me?" I smirked.

"I saved your life," he pointed out.

Well, he wasn't going to let go of _that_ anytime soon.

I sighed gustily. "_Fine_. Bitten by a radioactive spider?"

"That's not very creative," he scoffed.

"Excuse me," I said indignantly. "It's feasible. All the plants here- there's probably loads of spiders. And Mr. Banner has the makings of a mad scientist; some of them could be radioactive."

"You're not even close," he teased.

"No spiders?"

"Nope." He popped the p.

"And no radioactivity?"

"None."

"Dang," I sighed.

"Kryptonite doesn't bother me, either," he said with an expression of fake seriousness.

"I'll figure it out eventually," I warned him.

"I wish you wouldn't try." He was actually serious now.

"Because... ?" I drew it out questioningly.

"What if I'm not a superhero? What if I'm the bad guy?" He smiled playfully, but his eyes were impenetrable.

"Oh," I said, as several things he'd hinted fell suddenly into place. "I see."

"Do you?" His face was abruptly severe, as if he were afraid that he'd accidentally said  
too much.

"Yes, I do." I said calmly. "I could see you as the bad guy."

He just looked at me, eyes full of some emotion. Hurt? Anger? Resign?

"So you're dangerous," I continued, "Well, that makes sense. You _did_ lift a van off me," I was daring him to contradict that fact now, "But are you some… villain?" I shrugged. "I don't know, Edward. You tell me."

He said nothing and looked down, stealing my bottle lid and then spinning it on its side between his fingers. I stared at him, wondering why I didn't feel more afraid. He'd practically told me he was evil or at least… not denied that he was. But I didn't know about that. Was he an angel? I doubted it. But would any serious bad guy just straight out warn you he was dangerous? Wouldn't that sort of defeat the whole "take them by surprise" thing villains seemed so fond of? And if he was going for the more obvious route, why would he save my life? It seemed to me that it would be more villainous to be able to save me and just choose not too, probably while twirling his nonexistent mustache and lurking in the shadows. He set me on edge, made me worried and upset and anxious… but somehow that didn't alarm me as much as it should have. I wasn't drawn to him…. more like what he made me feel like. He made me feel like a teenage girl, and not in that stupid, giddy, giggling flirtatiously way. He made me get mad and frustrated and amused and triumphant and all these new emotions I'd so rarely let myself feel before. This boy was just marching on through, tearing down all my walls before I even realized he was doing it. I didn't know how to handle or even react to that.

The silence lasted until I noticed that the cafeteria was almost empty.

I jumped to my feet. "We're going to be late." I fretted, annoyed I'd managed to lose track of time while talking to him.

"I'm not going to class today," he said distantly, twirling the lid so fast it was just a blur.

"Why not?" I asked curiously. He didn't seem like the type to cut.

"It's healthy to ditch class now and then." He smiled up at me, but his eyes were still troubled.

"Well, I'm going," I told him. I was far too big a coward to risk getting caught, and I was looking forward to a Biology class where I would have no distractions or interruption from my learning.

He turned his attention back to his makeshift top. "I'll see you later, then."

The first bell sent me hurrying out the door- with a last glance confirming that he hadn't moved a centimeter. I guess he intended to sit there until the janitors kicked him out.

As I half-ran to class, my head was spinning faster than the bottle cap. So few questions had been answered in comparison to how many new questions had been raised. At least the rain had stopped, I reflected, jumping over a drying puddle on the ground and pleased when I managed to land on my feet without stumbling.

I was lucky; Mr. Banner wasn't in the room yet when I arrived. I settled quickly into my seat, aware that both Mike and Angela were staring at me. Mike looked completely confused, and Angela looked surprised, and slightly awed. I gave them both a tiny smile of reassurance, as if to say, _See? Not a scratch. _

Mr. Banner came in the room then, calling the class to order. He was juggling a few small cardboard boxes in his arms. He put them down on Mike's table, telling him to start passing them around the class. I craned my neck to try and see what was in them, bit couldn't tell from my seat.

"Okay, guys, I want you all to take one piece from each box," he said as he produced a pair of rubber gloves from the pocket of his lab jacket and pulled them on.

The sharp sound as the gloves snapped into place against his wrists seemed ominous to me.

"The first should be an indicator card," he went on, grabbing a white card with four squares marked on it and displaying it. "The second is a four-pronged applicator-" he held up something that looked like a nearly toothless hair pick "-and the third is a sterile micro-lancet." He held up a small piece of blue plastic and split it open. The barb was invisible from this distance, but my stomach flipped. I couldn't stand anything that pricked or drew blood. I'd always been that child in hysterics at the doctor's office, having to be held down just so blood could be taken from me. As I got older, I got too embarrassed to make a big fuss, so I usually just looked away and cringed the entire time. Still, I always felt like I could almost _smell _it.

"I'll be coming around with a dropper of water to prepare your cards, so please don't start until I get to you." He began at Mike's table again, carefully putting one drop of water in each of the four squares. "Then I want you to carefully prick your finger with the lancet..." He grabbed Mike's hand and jabbed the spike into the tip of Mike's middle finger.

Oh no. Clammy moisture broke out across my forehead. I wiped at my face with my sleeve nervously, shifting in my seat.

"Put a small drop of blood on each of the prongs." He demonstrated, squeezing Mike's finger till the blood flowed. I swallowed convulsively, my stomach heaving. Mike, to his credit, didn't look too bothered. In fact he was joking around, laughing as he watched his blood get smeared on the card. _You people are sick_, I wanted to shriek. How was this sanitary? I didn't want to get some disease because I was exposed to everyone's bodily fluids.

"And then apply it to the card," he finished, holding up the dripping red card for us to see. I closed my eyes, trying to hear through the ringing in my ears. I suddenly felt very hot and very cold at the same time. I dug my nails into my palms in an attempt to stay calm and not barf all over the lab table. Well, at least Edward wasn't here to see me like this. No one else seemed terribly bothered by what was going on.

"The Red Cross is having a blood drive in Port Angeles next weekend, so I thought you should all know your blood type." He sounded proud of himself. "Those of you who aren't eighteen yet will need a parent's permission- I have slips at my desk."

He continued through the room with his water drops. I put my cheek against the cool black tabletop and tried not to faint. I was not going to be the center of attention for another week as The Girl Who Passed Out At The Sight Of Blood. All around me I could hear squeals, complaints, and giggles as my classmates skewered their fingers. I breathed slowly in and out through my mouth, and didn't look up.

"Bella, are you all right?" Mr. Banner asked. His voice was close to my head, and it sounded alarmed. As he should be… what was he thinking, mixing teenagers and finger pricking? I gave it five minutes before someone decided to jab someone else with a lancet and then he'd really be sorry.

"I already know my blood type, Mr. Banner," I said in a weak voice. I was afraid to raise my head. I was glad I hadn't eaten anything during lunch now. The lemonade was churning in my stomach, along with my breakfast.

"Are you feeling faint?"

_Nah, I just decided to nap in your class_. Of course I was feeling faint!

"Yes, sir," I muttered, internally kicking myself for not ditching when I had the chance. I wouldn't have ditched _with_ Edward, per se, but just conveniently during the same class that he did.

"Can someone take Bella to the nurse, please?" he called.

Mike volunteered.

"Can you walk?" Mr. Banner asked.

"Yes," I whispered. _Just let me get out of here_, I thought. _I'll crawl_.

Mike gingerly put his arm around my waist and pulled my arm over his shoulder. I leaned against him heavily on the way out of the classroom. Mike towed me slowly across campus. When we were around the edge of the cafeteria, out of sight of building four in case Mr. Banner was watching, I stopped. "Just let me sit for a minute, please?" I begged.

He helped me sit on the edge of the walk.

"Thanks," I mumbled as he hovered over me. I was still so dizzy. I slumped over on my side, putting my cheek against the freezing, damp cement of the sidewalk, closing my eyes. That seemed to help a little. The ringing in my ears had already mostly faded, and I no longer felt as hot and flushed.

"Wow, you're green, Bella," Mike said nervously.

"Lovely," I rasped. It had always been my deepest desire to be turning the color I despised the most. I groaned.

"Bella?" a different voice called from the distance.

No! No, no, no, no! This could not be happening. He could not be here, right now. I had to be imagining him.

"What's wrong- is she hurt?" His voice was closer now. I wasn't imagining it. I squeezed my eyes shut, hoping to die. Or, at the very least, not to throw up. Though, maybe if I did puke on him, it would get him to go away.

Mike seemed stressed, probably because I was slumped on the sidewalk like a passed out drunk and turning green. "I think she's fainted. I don't know what happened; she didn't  
even stick her finger."

"Blood is _gross_," I hissed in their general direction.

"Bella." Edward's voice was right beside me. "Can you hear me?"

"No," I groaned. "Go away."

He made a noise that sound suspiciously like a chuckle.

"Piss off," I muttered.

"I was taking her to the nurse," Mike explained in a sheepish tone, "but she wouldn't go any farther."

"Both of you just leave me alone," I moaned.

"I'll take her," Edward said. I could hear the smirk in his voice. "You can go back to class."

"No," Mike protested. "I'm supposed to do it." Honestly, he probably feared for my safety. I wasn't looking at Edward but doubted he looked particularly trustworthy at the moment. But then again, did he ever look trustworthy?

"Go _away_," I yelped, when suddenly the sidewalk disappeared from beneath me. My eyes flew open in shock.

Edward had scooped me up in his arms, as easily as if I weighed ten pounds instead of a hundred and ten.

"Put me down!" Please, please let me vomit on him. I hope it gets in his mouth. It'll serve him right. He was walking before I was finished talking.

"Hey!" Mike called, already ten paces behind us.

Edward ignored him. "You look awful," he told me, grinning sadistically.

"Put me back on the sidewalk," I tried to snarl, but it came out very weakly. The rocking movement of his walk was not helping. He held me away from his body, awkwardly supporting all of my weight with his arms, but it didn't seem to bother him. I dug my fingers into his shoulders and debated trying to scratch at his face. Anything was better than letting myself be limply carried away.

"So you faint at the sight of blood?" he asked. This seemed to entertain him.

I didn't answer. I closed my eyes again and fought the nausea with all my strength, clamping my lips together, and tried to wriggle out of his grip.

"And not even your own blood," he continued, enjoying himself.

I may have said "Die, Edward Cullen, die," in a low tone once or twice, but I don't think he heard me.

I don't know how he opened the door while carrying me, but it was suddenly warm, so I knew we were inside.

"Oh my," I heard a female voice gasp.

If I hadn't already been tinged green I would have turned red, and I started thrashing wildly in an escape attempt. That didn't do much good, so I just elbowed him hard once or twice without even looking.

"She fainted in Biology," Edward explained.

I opened my eyes. I was in the office, and Edward was striding past the front counter toward the nurse's door. "I didn't faint," I insisted in a small voice as Ms. Cope, the redheaded front office receptionist, ran ahead of him to hold it open. The grandmotherly nurse looked up from a novel, astonished, as Edward swung me into the room and put me down on the crackly paper that covered the brown vinyl mattress on the one cot. Then he moved to stand against the wall as far across the narrow room as possible. His eyes were bright, excited for some reason. God, he was such a freak.

"She's just a little faint," he reassured the startled nurse. "They're blood typing in Biology."

The nurse nodded sagely. "There's always one."

He muffled a snicker with his hand.

"Just lie down for a minute, honey; it'll pass."

"I know," I sighed. The nausea was already fading.

"Does this happen a lot?" she asked.

"Sometimes," I admitted.

Edward coughed to hide more sniggering.

"You can go back to class now," she told him. I sent her a grateful half smile, glad she was kicking him out, and him a dirty look.

"I'm supposed to stay with her." He said this with such assured authority that- even though she pursed her lips- the nurse didn't argue it further.

I opened my mouth to dispute that and suddenly felt like I might throw up again, so I shut it quickly and swallowed, trying to get the bad taste of out my mouth.

"I'll go get you some ice for your forehead, dear," she said to me, and then bustled out of the room.

"Leave," I tried to order him regally, throwing a hand out to limply point toward the door.

"I think I'll hang around, actually," he chortled.

"Edward-

"You scared me for a minute there," he admitted, interrupting me. His tone made it sound like he was completely repulsed and telling a hilarious joke at the same time. "I thought Newton was dragging your dead body off to bury it in the woods." he continued.

"Haha. Did you come to see if he needed any help?" I still had my eyes closed, but I was feeling more normal every minute.

"Honestly- I've seen corpses with better color. I was concerned that I might have to avenge your murder."

"Poor Mike. He had to witness my abduction." I deadpanned.

"Sorry, I forgot nobly escorting you to the nurse's office was a crime." he retorted.

"Please. There was nothing noble about any of that. You just liked exploiting my moment of weakness. How did you see me anyways? I thought you were ditching." I was almost fine now, though still a bit queasy. I tried to breathe as evenly as possible.

"I was in my car, listening to a CD." Such a normal response- it surprised me. I'd assumed he was off scaring small children into giving him their lunch money or something if that nature.

"No smoking pot under the bleachers?" I smirked.

Before he could answer I heard the door and opened my eyes to see the nurse with a cold compress in her hand.

"Here you go, dear." She laid it across my forehead. "You're looking better," she added.

"I think I'm fine," I said, sitting up. The dizziness was gone. The mint green walls stayed where they should and my stomach seemed to have settled.

I could see she was about to make me lie back down, but the door opened just then, and Ms. Cope stuck her head in.

"We've got another one," she warned.

I eagerly hopped down to free up the cot for the next invalid.

I handed the compress back to the nurse. "Here, I don't need this."

And then Mike staggered through the door, now supporting a sallow-looking Lee Stephens, another boy in our Biology class. Edward and I drew back against the wall to give them room. I gave Mike a sympathetic look. He'd obviously had to turn around as soon as he got back to class.

"Oh no," Edward muttered. "Go out to the office, Bella."

I looked up at him, irate and bewildered.

"Trust me- go." he hissed.

I was about to argue but a certain smell hit my nostrils and I stiffened, spun, and caught the door before it closed, darting out of the infirmary. I could feel Edward right behind me.

"You actually listened to me." He was stunned.

"I smelled the blood," I said, wrinkling my nose. Lee wasn't sick from watching other people, like me.

"People can't smell blood," he contradicted.

"Well, I can- that's what makes me sick. It smells like rust... and salt." I said defensively.

He was staring at me with an unfathomable expression.

"What?" I asked. _I'm not crazy, I swear!_

"It's nothing." he mumbled.

Mike came through the door then, glancing from me to Edward. He looked back at me, his eyes glum. I wondered if Lee had bled on him.

"You look better," he finally said.

"Just keep your hand in your pocket," I warned him.

"Geez, it's not bleeding anymore," he muttered. "Are you going back to class?"

"Are you kidding? I'd just have to turn around and come back."

"Yeah, I guess... So are you going this weekend? To the beach?"

I looked at Edward out of the corner of my eye. He was standing against the cluttered counter like a statue, staring off into space blankly. I got the feeling he did that a lot.

I tried to sound as friendly as possible, still feeling some guilt about turning him down. I hoped he and Jessica were finally starting to hit it off. "Sure, I said I was in."

"We're meeting at my dad's store, at ten." His eyes flickered to Edward again, wondering if he was giving out too much information. His body language made it clear that it wasn't an open invitation.

Ha! Did he think I'd invite Edward?

"I'll be there," I promised.

"I'll see you in Gym, then," he said, moving uncertainly toward the door.

"See you," I replied. He gave me a small, hesitant smile, and then left.

"Crap. Gym." I realized aloud.

"I can take care of that." I hadn't noticed Edward moving to my side, but he spoke now in my ear. "Go sit down and look pale," he muttered.

That wasn't a challenge; I was always pale, and I still had a thin sheen of sweat on my face. I really wanted to go home and take a shower; I felt gross. I sat in one of the creaky folding chairs and did my best to look convincingly ill.

Edward was speaking softly at the counter. "Ms. Cope?"

"Yes?" I hadn't heard her return to her desk.

"Bella has Gym next hour, and I don't think she feels well enough. Actually, I was thinking I should take her home now. Do you think you could excuse her from class?"

If his voice had been any smoother you probably could have used it as a slip n' slide. This boy had the manipulation of unwitting adults down to a T. All he and his siblings probably had to do was pout and the faculty would be bending over backwards to meet their every need. That territory came from being in a rich family, I guess.

"Do you need to be excused, too, Edward?" Ms. Cope fluttered.

I rolled my eyes before I remembered I was supposed to be looking frail and sickly, and I slumped down further in my seat.

"No, I have Mrs. Goff, she won't mind." he assured her.

"Okay, it's all taken care of. You feel better, Bella," she called to me. I nodded weakly, hamming it up just a bit.

"Can you walk, or do you want me to carry you again?" With his back to the receptionist, his expression became sarcastic.

"I'll walk." I said evenly, through gritted teeth.

I stood carefully, and I was still fine. He held the door for me, his smile polite but his eyes mocking. I walked out into the cold, fine mist that had just begun to fall. It felt nice- the first time I'd enjoyed the constant moisture falling out of the sky- as it washed my face clean of the sticky perspiration. I tilted my head back a little in quiet appreciation.

"Thanks," I said begrudgingly as he followed me out. "It's almost worth getting sick to miss Gym."

"Anytime." He was staring straight forward, squinting into the rain.

"I'm just going to assume that you're not going down to First Beach this Saturday," I commented as we stepped off the sidewalk. "It doesn't seem like your scene."

He smiled wryly. "I really don't think I was invited. What do you think my 'scene' is?"

I shrugged, staring at the blacktop, making sure not to slip. "Prison? An asylum? A haunted house?"

He snorted and said nothing.

I started to veer left, towards my truck. Something caught my jacket, yanking me back.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, outraged. He was gripping a fistful of my jacket in one hand.

"I knew this was all part of a scheme to abduct me, murder me, and then dump the body." I replied with equal outrage. "I just thought you were waiting until we went to Seattle."

"Didn't you hear me promise to take you home? Do you think I'm going to let you drive in your condition?" he said sharply.

I was busy trying to yank my jacket out of his grip. "Condition?! I felt a bit faint in Biology because blood freaks me out! That's all that happened, seriously! I was just playing it up so I could get out of Gym! Come on, let go!"

"You shouldn't be driving if you were just collapsed on the sidewalk five minutes ago!" he snapped.

"I'm fine now! I can't just leave my truck here!" I protested, and forced myself to lower my voice before someone looked outside to see what probably looked like a kidnapping in the works. On second thought, maybe that would be a good thing.

"I'll have Alice drop it off after school." He was trying to tow me by my jacket to his car. I stumbled and tried to dig my heels in to brace myself. The wet pavement wasn't really helping.

"You have two seconds to let go of me before I start screaming bloody murder," I warned him, aiming a kick at his legs.

He ignored me.

"I'm serious, Cullen!" I whipped out the last name card again.

"I'll tell them you're delirious, _Swan_," he shot back.

He finally freed me when we reached the Volvo. I swore under my breath and punched him in the stomach. All it really did was make him blink a little in surprise and my hand hurt. I leaned against the passenger door and fumed as he got in the driver's side. It was raining hard now and my hair was dripping down my back. I'd forgotten to put my hood up.

He lowered the automatic window and leaned toward me across the seat. "Get in."

I didn't answer. I was mentally calculating my chances of reaching the truck before he could catch me. I had to admit, they weren't good.

"I'll just drag you back," he threatened, guessing my plan.

I looked forlornly back at my truck, and then decided my dignity would be left more intact if I got in the car of my own free, but coerced, will. I looked like a half-drowned cat and my boots squeaked as I slipped into the Volvo, sinking into the seat.

"This is completely unnecessary," I said stiffly.

He didn't answer. He fiddled with the controls, turning the heater up and the music down. As he pulled out of the parking lot, I was preparing to give him the silent treatment- my face in full pout mode- but then I recognized the music playing, and my curiosity got the better of my intentions. "Clair de Lune?" I asked, surprised.

"You know Debussy?" He sounded surprised, too.

"Not well," I admitted. "My mom plays a lot of classical music around the house- I only know my favorites."

"It's one of my favorites, too." He stared out through the rain, lost in thought.

I listened to the music and relaxed against the leather seat, as much as I tried to sit tense and rigid. It was impossible not to respond to the familiar, soothing melody. I'd grown up hearing it in the evenings, as Mom experimented in the kitchen, singing softly to herself, and I watched the sun set on the patio and did my homework or read. The rain blurred everything outside the window into gray and green smudges. I began to realize we were driving very fast; the car moved so steadily, so evenly, though, I didn't feel the speed. Only the town flashing by gave it away. I exhaled slowly.

"What is your mother like?" he asked me suddenly.

I glanced over to see him studying me with curious eyes.

"She looks a lot like me, but she's prettier," I said. "I have too much Charlie in me. She's more outgoing than I am, and braver. She's irresponsible and slightly eccentric, and she's a very unpredictable cook. She's my best friend." I stopped before my voice choked up. Talking about her was making me depressed.

"How old are you, Bella?" His voice sounded frustrated for some reason I couldn't imagine. He'd stopped the car, and I realized we were at Charlie's house already. The rain was so heavy that I could barely see the house at all. It was like the car was submerged under a river.

"I'm seventeen," I responded slowly, a little confused.

"You don't seem seventeen." he muttered reproachfully, as if I was trying to trick him or something.

"Neither do you," I pointed out. "Except when you're mad."

"What?"

"When you get upset, you look younger. Sound younger too." I explained.

He seemed to think on that for a moment before changing the subject.

"So why did your mother marry Phil?"

I was surprised he would remember the name; I'd mentioned it just once, almost two months ago. It took me a moment to answer.

"My mom... she's very young for her age. I think Phil makes her feel even younger. At any rate, she's crazy about him." I shook my head. The attraction was a mystery to me. Phil was okay looking, but not any better than my father had been. As for his personality… he was nice, I supposed. Passionate about baseball, and that was about it. He and I generally didn't talk much. Still, Mom had had worse boyfriends, so I didn't voice any objections when they got engaged and then married. She'd met him when I was just starting high school, by my sophomore year they were engaged, and they'd had a Christmas wedding this past year. It'd been sweet. I was the Maid of Honor for my mom, and I walked her down the aisle, too. I still remembered all the poinsettias. My dress had been red.

"Do you approve?" he asked.

"Does it matter?" I countered. "I want her to be happy... and he is who she wants."

"That's very generous…" he trailed off and things were quiet.

"Tell me about your family," I said, turning the tables abruptly.

He was instantly cautious. "What do you want to know?"

"The Cullens adopted you?" I verified.

"Yes."

I hesitated for a moment. "What happened to your parents?" I tensed a little; I didn't know his past and I could have potentially just opened a huge can of worms.

"They died many years ago." His tone was matter-of-fact and straightforward.

"I'm sorry," I mumbled awkwardly.

"I don't really remember them that clearly. Carlisle and Esme have been my parents for a long time now."

"And you love them." It wasn't a question. It was obvious in the way he spoke of them. His voice lightened considerably, and his eyes brightened.

"Yes." He smiled. "I couldn't imagine two better people."

"You're very lucky." I told him. He was, after all. It sounded like he'd been adopted as a little boy, so he couldn't have spent too much time going from foster home to foster home. I wondered how his parents had died. Had one been dead before the other, and then he was an orphan when the remaining parent died as well, or had they both passed away at the same time, in a car accident or something like that? It sounded like he'd been an only child as well, unless he'd lost his biological siblings too. Or were Emmett and Alice related to him by blood? They looked nothing alike, aside from the skin tone.

"I know I am."

"And your brother and sister?"

He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "My brother and sister, and Jasper and Rosalie for that matter, are going to be quite upset if they have to stand in the rain waiting for me."

"Oh, sorry." I kept losing track of time whenever I was around him, and I blamed him. Something about him was making my internal clock go haywire. I ordinarily had a very good sense of what time it was and if I was running late or not.

"And you probably want your truck back before Chief Swan gets home, so you don't have to tell him about the Biology incident." He grinned at me.

"I'm sure he's already heard. There are no secrets in Forks." I sighed.

He laughed, and there was an edge to his laughter. "Have fun at the beach... good weather for sunbathing." He glanced out at the sheeting rain.

"You know, tomorrow's only Friday."

"No. Emmett and I are starting the weekend early."

"What are you going to do?"

"We're going to be hiking in the Goat Rocks Wilderness, just south of Rainier." I remembered Charlie had said the Cullens went camping frequently.

"Have fun." I undid my seat belt and put up my hood, preparing to make a mad dash into the house. "Oh, here's the key to the truck." I fished it out of my pocket and put it on the dashboard.

"Will you do something for me this weekend?" He turned to look me straight in the eyes.

I started to open the door. "What?" I asked warily.

"Don't be offended, but you seem to be one of those people who just attract accidents like a magnet. So... try not to fall into the ocean or get run over or anything, all right?" He smiled crookedly.

I glared at him. "Oh you're _hilarious_. Just so we're clear, next time you treat me like a child and force me into your car I'm getting a restraining order."

"But then who will drive you to Seattle?" he asked innocently as I jumped out into the rain.

I slammed the door behind me with excessive force.

He was still smiling as he drove away.


	6. Chapter 6

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**6. Scary Stories**

As I sat in my room, trying to concentrate on the third act of Macbeth, which I normally loved- I was a big fan of Shakespeare, from the romantic Romeo and Juliet to the dark Scottish play itself- I was really listening for my truck. I would have thought, even over the pounding rain, I could have heard the engine's roar. But when I went to peek out the curtain- again- it was suddenly there. "Creepy Cullens," I muttered and went back to dramatically voicing all the characters. "It will have blood; they say, _blood will have blood_: stones have been known to move and trees to speak."

I wasn't looking forward to Friday and it more than lived up to my non-expectations. Of course there were the fainting comments. Jessica especially seemed to get a kick out of that story. I just rolled my eyes and insisted it'd been made out to sound a lot worse than it really was. Luckily Mike had kept his mouth shut, and no one seemed to know about Edward's involvement. She did have a lot of questions about lunch, though.

"So what did Edward Cullen want yesterday?" Jessica asked in Trig.

"I don't know," I answered truthfully. "He never really got to the point." If anyone was prone to circling around and around the point they were trying to make but never really reaching it, it was Edward.

"You looked kind of mad," she fished.

"Did I?" I kept my expression blank. I wasn't about to get into what we had talked about with her. Jessica was a major gossip, and even though we were friends and I liked her, I was talked about enough at this school. People were finally starting to forget the Truck Incident, and the Fainting Incident was still circulating. I didn't need yet another rumor going around.

"You know, I've never seen him sit with anyone but his family before. That was weird."

"Weird," I agreed vaguely, not elaborating any more on the matter.

She seemed annoyed; she flipped her dark curls impatiently- I guessed she'd been hoping to hear something that would make a good story for her to pass on.

At my usual table, everyone was full of our plans for the next day. Mike was animated again, putting a great deal of trust in the local weatherman who promised sun tomorrow. I'd have to see that before I believed it. But it was warmer today- almost sixty. Maybe the outing wouldn't be completely miserable.

I intercepted a few unfriendly glances from Lauren during lunch, which I didn't fully understand until we were all walking out of the room together. I was right behind her, just a foot from her slick, silver blond hair, and she was evidently unaware of that. "...don't know why Bella"- she sneered my name and I flinched a little in spite of myself- "doesn't just sit with the Cullens from now on." I heard her muttering to Mike. I'd never noticed what an unpleasant, nasal voice she had, but I wasn't surprised by the malice in it. Everything about her screamed alpha bitch, from the way she walked to the way she gave me sidelong dirty looks nearly every other day whenever I saw her. I knew she didn't like me, and I doubted she had a real concrete reason for it. It didn't matter; girls like her lived for despising other people. She'd probably seen me as a threat when I'd first moved here; being the new girl from a big city and an entirely different state, and about equal in the looks department to her, at that. Yeah, she was pretty, but in a different way than I usually got told I was. I was slight, dark haired, and dark eyed. She was blonde, tall, and curvaceous. Her sneer and narrowed icy blue eyes were messing with her heart shaped face. Now she most likely saw me as an intruder in the group she had been queen of since elementary school.

"She's our friend; she sits with us," Mike whispered back loyally. I paused to let Jess and Angela pass me, and tried to not let any hurt show on my face. I didn't want to hear any more.

That night at dinner, Charlie seemed enthusiastic about my trip to La Push in the morning. I think he felt guilty for leaving me home alone on the weekends, but he'd spent too many years building his habits to break them now. Of course he knew the names of all the kids going, and their parents, and their great-grandparents, too, probably. He seemed to approve. I wondered if he would approve of my plan to ride to Seattle with Edward Cullen. Not that I was going to tell him.

"Dad, do you know a place called Goat Rocks or something like that? I think it's south of Mount Rainier," I asked casually.

"Yeah- why?" he asked, after swallowing a mouthful of stew.

I shrugged. "Some kids were talking about camping there."

"It's not a very good place for camping." He sounded surprised." Too many bears. Most people go there during the hunting season."

"Oh," I murmured in confusion. "Maybe I got the name wrong." Did Edward and Emmett hunt? Was that even legal? Around here, sure, plenty of people had hunting rifles stowed in their trucks, but it definitely wasn't open season yet. I knew that much, even though I was a city girl. Charlie had offered to show me how to skin a rabbit when I was thirteen. I politely declined and had nightmares of dead bunnies chasing me for the next few days.

I meant to sleep in, but an unusual brightness woke me. I opened my eyes to see a clear yellow light streaming through my window. I couldn't believe it. It was like Christmas morning. I tumbled out of bed and hurried to the window to check, and sure enough, there was the sun. It was in the wrong place in the sky, too low, and it didn't seem to be as close as it should be, but it was definitely the sun. Clouds ringed the horizon, but a large patch of blue was visible in the middle. I lingered by the window as long as I could; afraid that if I left the blue would disappear again. It was like seeing an old friend after a long time apart. A smile broke out across my face.

The Newtons' Olympic Outfitters store was just north of town. I'd seen the store, but I'd never stopped there- not having much need for any supplies required for being outdoors over an extended period of time. In the parking lot I recognized Mike's Suburban and Tyler's Sentra. As I pulled up next to their vehicles, I could see the group standing around in front of the Suburban. Eric was there, along with two other boys I had class with; I was fairly sure their names were Ben and Conner. Jess was there, flanked by Angela and Lauren. Three other girls stood with them, including one I remembered falling over in Gym on Friday. That one gave me a dirty look as I got out of the truck, and whispered something to Lauren. Lauren shook out her corn silk hair and eyed me  
scornfully.

So it was going to be one of those days. My stomach squirmed uncomfortably and I averted my eyes, pretending I didn't see the looks being sent my way. At least Jess appeared just as uneasy as me, probably caught between defending me and siding with the girls she'd known since she was in diapers.

Mike was happy to see me too. "You came!" he called, delighted. "And I said it would be sunny today, didn't I?"

"I told you I was coming," I reminded him.

"We're just waiting for Lee and Samantha... unless you invited someone," Mike added.

I shook my head.

"Want to ride in my car? It's that or Lee's mom's minivan."

"Sure."

He smiled and then looked a little worried. "I promised Jess shotgun," he said tentatively.

I hid a smirk and shrugged. "That's cool."

Lee brought two extra people, and suddenly every seat was necessary. I got wedged on the other side of Jess in the front passenger seat of the Suburban, so I did sort of get to ride shotgun, though I was smushed up against the window and didn't really have a seatbelt. I hoped no one saw us all crammed into this car and reported it to the cops. I could just picture Charlie coming over to check Mike's license and seeing me very illegally seated in the front, cowering behind Jess.

It was only fifteen miles to La Push from Forks, with dense green forests edging the road most of the way and the wide Quillayute River snaking beneath it twice. I could appreciate the landscape- green as it was- a lot more when the sun was out and shining on it, illuminating everything. I was glad I had the window seat. There was definitely nothing like this in Arizona. We'd rolled the windows down- the Suburban was a bit claustrophobic with nine people in it- and I tried to absorb as much sunlight as  
possible, like a plant. Ew.

I'd been to the beaches around La Push many times during my Forks summers with Charlie, so the mile-long crescent of First Beach was familiar to me. It was still breathtaking. The water was dark gray, even in the sunlight, white-capped and heaving to the gray, rocky shore. Islands rose out of the steel harbor waters with sheer cliff sides, reaching to uneven summits, and crowned with austere, soaring firs. The beach had only a thin border of actual sand at the water's edge, after which it grew into millions of large, smooth stones that looked uniformly gray from a distance, but close up were every shade a stone could be: terra-cotta, sea green, lavender, blue gray, dull gold. The tide line was strewn with huge driftwood trees, bleached bone white in the salt waves, some piled together against the edge of the forest fringe, some lying solitary, just out of reach of the waves. I'd always appreciated this part of my summers here, though I never went in the water. Now I could really take it all in, even if I would have preferred more sand and some palm trees.

There was a brisk wind coming off the waves, cool and briny. Pelicans floated on the swells while seagulls and a lone eagle wheeled above them. The clouds still circled the sky, threatening to invade at any moment, but for now the sun shone bravely in its halo of blue sky. I almost gave it a little two finger salute in a show of camaraderie to my old friend.

We picked our way down to the beach, Mike leading the way to a ring of driftwood logs that had obviously been used for parties like ours before. There was a fire circle already in place, filled with black ashes. Eric and the boy I thought was named Ben gathered broken branches of driftwood from the drier piles against the forest edge, and soon had a teepee-shaped construction built atop the old cinders.

"Have you ever seen a driftwood fire?" Mike asked me. I was sitting on one of the bone-colored benches; the other girls clustered, gossiping excitedly, on either side of me.

Mike kneeled by the fire, lighting one of the smaller sticks with a cigarette lighter.

"No," I said as he placed the blazing twig carefully against the teepee.

"You'll like this then- watch the colors." He lit another small branch and laid it alongside the first. The flames started to lick quickly up the dry wood.

"It's blue," I said in surprise. It looked almost magical.

"The salt does it. Pretty, isn't it?" He lit one more piece, placed it where the fire hadn't yet caught, and then came to sit between me and Jess. She turned to him and claimed his attention. I watched the strange blue and green flames crackle toward the sky in silent content. So far, this trip hadn't been as bad I anticipated. As long as I steered clear of Lauren and her catty friends, and it didn't start raining or get too cold, this might actually end up being pretty fun.

After a half hour of chatter, some of the boys wanted to hike to the nearby tidal pools. It was a dilemma. On the one hand, I loved the tide pools. They had fascinated me since I was a child; they were one of the only things I ever looked forward to when I had to come to Forks. On the other hand, I'd also fallen into them a lot. Not a big deal when you're seven and with your dad. It reminded me of Edward's request- that I not fall into the ocean. I grimaced at the thought of taking a tumble and humiliating myself once more.

Lauren was the one who made my decision for me. She didn't want to hike, and she was definitely wearing the wrong shoes for it. I'd worn my new hiking boots. I hadn't wanted to be trying to navigate all the rocks and damp sand in flats. Most of the other girls besides Angela and Jessica decided to stay on the beach as well. I waited until Tyler and Eric had committed to remaining with them before I got up quietly to join the pro-hiking group.

The hike wasn't too long, though I hated to lose the sky in the woods. The green light of the forest was strangely at odds with the adolescent laughter, too murky and ominous to be in harmony with the light banter around me. I had to watch each step I took very carefully, avoiding roots below and branches above, and I soon fell behind. Eventually I broke through the almost smothering confines of the forest and found the rocky shore again. It was low tide, and a tidal river flowed past us on its way to the sea. Along its pebbled banks, shallow pools that never completely drained were teeming with life. I was very cautious not to lean too far over the little ocean ponds. The others were fearless, leaping over the rocks, perching precariously on the edges. I found a very stable-looking rock on the fringe of one of the largest pools and sat there cautiously, spellbound by the natural aquarium below me. It was better than any artificial one in the city. The bouquets of brilliant anemones undulated ceaselessly in the invisible current, twisted shells scurried about the edges, obscuring the crabs within them, starfish stuck motionless to the rocks and each other, while one small black eel with white racing stripes wove through the bright green weeds, waiting for the sea to return. I was completely absorbed, occasionally boldly sticking my hand in the pool, and wondering if the eel would come close. It did, once, and brushed against my fingers before I gasped, laughing softly, and yanked my hand out of the water. I sprayed droplets on my jeans and sweatshirt, but I didn't mind for once. This reminded me of being a curious little girl again, clutching Charlie's hand timidly as he pointed out all the different species coexisting in harmony in one little pool

Finally the boys were hungry, and I got up stiffly to follow them back. I tried to keep up better this time through the woods, so naturally I fell a few times as I hurried along trying to match their strides. I got some shallow scrapes on my palms, and the knees of my jeans were stained green, but it could have been worse.

When we got back to First Beach, the group we'd left behind had multiplied. As we got closer we could see the shining, straight black hair and copper skin of the newcomers, teenagers from the reservation come to socialize. I'd probably met some of them during a few of my summers here, though none of them probably remembered me.

The food was already being passed around, and the boys hurried to claim a share while Eric introduced us as we each entered the driftwood circle. Angela and I were the last to arrive, and, as Eric said our names, I noticed a younger boy sitting on the stones near the fire glance up at me curiously. I sat down next to Angela, and Mike brought us sandwiches and an array of sodas to choose from, while a boy who looked to be the oldest of the visitors rattled off the names of the seven others with him. All I caught was that one of the girls was also named Jessica, and the boy who noticed me was named Jacob.

It was relaxing to sit with Angela; she was a restful kind of person to be around- she didn't feel the need to fill every silence with chatter. I got the feeling she understood my need to just be alone in my thoughts from time to time. She left me free to think undisturbed while we ate. And I was thinking about how disjointedly time seemed to flow in Forks, passing in a blur at times, with single images standing out more clearly than others. And then, at other times, every second was significant, etched in my mind. Like almost getting hit by Tyler's van, that lunch room conversation with Edward, the sight of blood in Biology, the car ride home with Edward… Ugh, too much Edward. This was one memory, at least, a good one, that I was making without him.

During lunch the clouds started to advance, slinking across the blue sky, darting in front of the sun momentarily, casting long shadows across the beach, and blackening the waves. As they finished eating, people started to drift away in twos and threes. Some walked down to the edge of the waves, trying to skip rocks across the choppy surface. Others were gathering a second expedition to the tide pools. Mike- with Jessica shadowing him- headed up to the one shop in the village. Some of the local kids went with them; others went along on the hike. By the time they all had scattered, I was sitting alone on my driftwood log, with Lauren and Tyler occupying themselves by the CD player someone had thought to bring, and three teenagers from the reservation perched around the circle, including the boy named Jacob and the oldest boy who had acted as spokesperson. They were playing some old nineties rock song, and I hummed along under my breath absentmindedly.

A few minutes after Angela left with the hikers, Jacob sauntered over to take her place by my side. He looked fourteen, maybe fifteen, and had long, shiny black hair pulled back with a rubber band at the nape of his neck. His skin was pretty smooth for someone who looked just out of middle school, I thought enviously. He had dark, deep eyes and remarkably high cheekbones, and past the baby fat that rounded still rounded his face, I could see he was one of the fortunate ones who were going to come out looking pretty darn attractive when puberty was done. Meanwhile, I still got zits.

The first words out of his mouth were not surprising.

"You're Isabella Swan, aren't you?"

It was like the first day of school all over again.

"Bella," I sighed.

"I'm Jacob Black." He held his hand out in a friendly gesture. "You bought my dad's truck."

"Oh," I said, relieved, shaking his hand. "You're Billy's son. I probably should remember you."

"No, I'm the youngest of the family- you would remember my older sisters."

"Rachel and Rebecca," I suddenly recalled. Charlie and Billy had thrown us together a lot during my visits, to keep us busy while they fished. We were all too shy to make much progress as friends. Of course, I'd kicked up enough tantrums to end the fishing trips by the time I was eleven.

"Are they here?" I examined the girls at the ocean's edge, wondering if I would recognize them now.

"No." Jacob shook his head. "Rachel got a scholarship to Washington State, and Rebecca married a Samoan surfer- she lives in Hawaii now."

"Married. Wow." I was stunned. The twins were only a little over a year older than I was.

"So how do you like the truck?" he asked.

"I love it. It runs great." I brightened visibly at the mention of my beloved truck.

"Yeah, but it's really slow," he laughed. "I was so relieved when Charlie bought it. My dad wouldn't let me work on building another car when we had a perfectly good vehicle right there."

"It's not that slow," I objected sheepishly.

"Have you tried to go over sixty?"

"No," I admitted. "I'm afraid of what might happen."

"Good. Don't." He grinned.

I snickered. "It does great in a collision," I offered in my truck's defense.

"I don't think a tank could take out that old monster," he agreed with another laugh.

"So you build cars?" I asked, impressed. I'd always been sort of interested in cars and stuff like that. I'd taken an auto shop class back in Phoenix, and been the only girl. I liked seeing how things worked from the inside; where all the parts fit in.

"When I have free time, and parts. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get my hands on a master cylinder for a 1986 Volkswagen Rabbit?" he added jokingly.

"Sorry," I laughed, "I haven't seen any lately, but I'll keep my eyes open for you." Jacob was easy to talk with. I didn't usually laugh or smile this much in just one conversation with someone I hadn't seen in years.

He flashed a cocky smile. Oh god. Was a fourteen year old jokingly flirting with me? This was too funny.

"You know Bella, Jacob?" Lauren asked -in what I imagined was an insolent tone- from across the fire. My chuckling died out abruptly.

"We've sort of known each other since I was born," he laughed, smiling at me again.

"How nice." She didn't sound like she thought it was nice at all, and her pale eyes narrowed.

"Bella," she called again, watching my face carefully, "I was just saying to Tyler that it was too bad none of the Cullens could come out today. Didn't anyone think to invite them?" Her expression of concern was unconvincing.

"You mean Dr. Carlisle Cullen's family?" the tall, older boy asked before I could respond, much to Lauren's irritation. He was really closer to a man than a boy, and his voice was very deep.

"Yes, do you know them?" she asked condescendingly, turning halfway toward him.

"The Cullens don't come here," he said in a tone that closed the subject, ignoring her question. I immediately liked him. I'd never seen anyone act so brusque towards Lauren before. Everyone seemed to constantly bend over backwards to appease her, fearing her wrath. Well, I wasn't intimidated by her. Most of the time. She had a way of making everyone feel small.

Tyler, trying to win back her attention, asked Lauren's opinion on a CD he held. She was distracted, thankfully, and I let myself relax again.

I stared at the deep-voiced, almost a man, boy, but he was looking away toward the dark forest behind us. He'd said that the Cullens didn't come here, but his tone had implied something more- that they weren't allowed; they were prohibited. His manner left a strange impression on me, and I tried to ignore it without success. Why wouldn't they be allowed down here? Had they gotten in trouble doing something on the reservation? I tried to imagine Edward spraying graffiti or acting like a delinquent, and failed to hold in a quiet snort of disbelief.

Jacob interrupted my meditation. "So is Forks driving you insane yet?"

"Oh, I'd say that's an understatement." I grimaced. He grinned understandingly.

I was still turning over the brief comment on the Cullens, and I had a sudden inspiration. If I could manage to befriend Jacob, maybe he'd elaborate on why the Cullens didn't, or couldn't, come around here.

"Do you want to walk down the beach with me?" I asked, trying to sound as warm as possible. It was hard; I wasn't used to being this outgoing at all, but it worked. As stilted and forced as it probably sounded, he jumped up willingly enough.

As we walked north across the multihued stones toward the driftwood seawall, the clouds finally closed ranks across the sky, causing the sea to darken and the temperature to drop. I shoved my hands deep into the pockets of my jacket, glaring up at the overcast sky. Did the sun really have to go away so soon? Sure, evening was quickly approaching… but I hated the familiar chill sinking into my bones.

"So you're, what, sixteen?" I asked jokingly, in an attempt to start conversation and lighten my own mood.

"I just turned fifteen," he smirked. "I'm tall for my age."

He did tower over me. He was probably taller than Edward, even.

"Do you come up to Forks much?" I wondered. I didn't recall ever seeing him or any of the other kids from the reservation come up to the town. I could understand why. There wasn't much to do. It couldn't really be any more exciting than the reservation.

"Not too much," he admitted with a frown. "But when I get my car finished I can go up as much as I want- after I get my license," he amended.

I smiled, remembering how eager I'd been to get my license once I'd learned how to drive properly. I'd been a quick learner, thankfully, because my mom nearly went into hysterics several times while teaching me.

"Who was that other boy Lauren was talking to? He seemed a little old to be hanging out with us." I purposefully lumped myself in with the youngsters, trying to make it clear that I saw myself as Jacob's equal, not an aloof older girl who was going to treat him like a little kid. Maybe I was being manipulative, but it was working.

"That's Sam- he's nineteen," he informed me.

"What was that he was saying about the doctor's family?" I asked innocently.

"The Cullens? Oh, they're not supposed to come onto the reservation." He looked away, out toward James Island, as he confirmed what I'd thought I'd heard in Sam's voice.

"Why not?" I asked, my bewilderment clear in my tone.

He glanced back at me, biting his lip. "I'm not supposed to say anything about that."

"What? Is it some big secret?" That came out more sarcastically than I intended.

Luckily he didn't look offended, just thoughtful, before he evidently came to the conclusion that it couldn't hurt to tell me.

_Success! _

"Do you like scary stories?" he asked ominously.

"I love them," I said enthusiastically, then cringed at how unnaturally high my voice was when I tried to sound cheery. But I was telling the truth; I did love scary stories. Yes, I was a wimp, but I did like scaring myself on occasion. I had a large collection of Stephen King books, and I'd always liked Lovecraft and Poe as well.

Jacob strolled to a nearby driftwood tree that had its roots sticking out like the attenuated legs of a huge, pale spider. He perched lightly on one of the twisted roots while I sat beneath him on the body of the tree. He stared down at the rocks, a smile hovering around the edges of his broad lips. I could see he was going to try to make this good. I leaned back and stared up at him, waiting for him to begin.

"Do you know any of our old stories, about where we came from- the Quileutes, I mean?" he began.

"Not really," I admitted sheepishly.

"Well, there are lots of legends; some of them claiming to date back to the Flood- supposedly, the ancient Quileutes tied their canoes to the tops of the tallest trees on the mountain to survive like Noah and the ark." He smiled, to show me how little stock he put in the histories. "Another legend claims that we descended from wolves- and that the wolves are our brothers still. It's against tribal law to kill them. Then there are the stories about the cold ones." His voice dropped a little lower.

"The cold ones?" I asked, hiding a smile at how over the top he was making this out to be.

"Yes. There are stories of the cold ones as old as the wolf legends, and some much more recent. According to legend, my own great-grandfather knew some of them. He was the one who made the treaty that kept them off our land." He rolled his eyes.

"Your great-grandfather?" I encouraged, secretive smile fading a little.

"He was a tribal elder, like my father. You see, the cold ones are the natural enemies of the wolf- well, not the wolf, really, but the wolves that turn into men, like our ancestors. You would call them werewolves."

"Werewolves have enemies?" I quipped, just barely managing to not insert an outright incredulous tone into my voice.

"Only one."

I stared at him.

"So you see," Jacob continued, "the cold ones are traditionally our enemies. But this pack that came to our territory during my great-grandfather's time was different. They didn't hunt the way others of their kind did- they weren't supposed to be dangerous to the tribe. So my great-grandfather made a truce with them. If they would promise to stay off our lands, we wouldn't expose them to the pale-faces." He winked at me.

"If they weren't dangerous, then why...?" I trailed off awkwardly.

"There's always a risk for humans to be around the cold ones, even if they're civilized like this clan was. You never know when they might get too hungry to resist." He deliberately worked a thick edge of menace into his tone.

"What do you mean, 'civilized'?" I snorted. How could anything that drank blood- I assumed that was what he was implying, vampires, basically, be civilized?

"They claimed that they didn't hunt humans. They supposedly were somehow able to prey on animals instead."

I tried to keep my voice casual and not condescending. "So how does it fit in with the Cullens? Are they like the cold ones your great grandfather met?"

"No." He paused dramatically. "They are the same ones."

He must have thought the expression on my face was fear inspired by his story. He smiled, pleased, and continued.

"There are more of them now, a new female and a new male, but the rest are the same. In my great-grandfather's time they already knew of the leader, Carlisle. He'd been here and gone before your people had even arrived." He was fighting a smile.

"And what are they?" I finally asked. "What are the cold ones?"

He smiled darkly.

"Blood drinkers," he replied in a chilling voice. "Your people call them vampires."

I stared out at the rough surf after he answered, not sure what my face was exposing. Did they all seriously think the Cullens were vampires? How would that even work? Sure, they were all pale and a bit gaunt, and attractive, sure, but they went to school. Had jobs. Went out in the daytime. And as much as I saw how they didn't seem to have much of an appetite, I'd seen them chew and swallow food before. If they were vampires, shouldn't they be holed up in coffins somewhere, only coming out at night to prey on beautiful women, or something like that?

"You have goose bumps," he laughed delightedly.

"You're a good storyteller," I complimented him, laughing a little myself, still staring into the waves.

"Pretty crazy stuff, though, isn't it? No wonder my dad doesn't want us to talk about it  
to anyone."

"Don't worry, I won't give you away." I joked. Obviously he didn't believe that crazy tale, so it wasn't like I was the only one. It was just an old myth, no doubt resurrected when the Cullens moved here and set everyone ill at ease. The townspeople of Forks didn't really want to associate with them; it wasn't just the Quiluetes.

"I guess I just violated the treaty," he sniggered.

"I'll take it to the grave," I promised, and then I shivered.

"Seriously, though, don't say anything to Charlie. He was pretty mad at my dad when he heard that some of us weren't going to the hospital since Dr. Cullen started working there."

"I won't, of course not." I assured him. Please. I had no intention of telling my dad about any of this.

"So do you think we're a bunch of superstitious natives or what?" he asked in a playful tone, but with a hint of worry. I still hadn't looked away from the ocean. He was probably worried he'd really freaked me out.

I turned and smiled a little at him. "No. I think you're very good at telling scary stories, though. I still have goose bumps, see?" I held up my arm, where nearly all the little hairs on it stood rigid. It was covered in tiny bumps, though they were mostly from the cold, not Jacob's story. But he didn't need to know that.

"Cool." He grinned.

And then the sound of the beach rocks clattering against each other warned us that someone was approaching. Our heads snapped up at the same time to see Mike and Jessica about fifty yards away, walking toward us.

"There you are, Bella," Mike called, waving his arm over his head. Jess waved too.

"So when I get my license..." Jacob began.

"You should come up to Forks. We could hang out sometime." I felt guilty as I said this, knowing that I'd used him just to end up hearing a crazy legend about werewolves and vampires. But he was nice and warm and just the right brand of outgoing to draw me out of my shell without overwhelming me, and the sort of person I felt like I'd known forever. As if he was my younger brother or something. I'd never had a sibling, so I didn't really know what the feeling was, but it felt sort of… familial.

Mike had reached us now, with Jessica still a few paces back.

"Where have you been?" he asked, though the answer was right in front of him. "Lauren said you went off with some guy."

"We were kind of worried," Jess called, catching up to him. She looked at Jacob curiously.

"Jacob was just telling me some local stories," I volunteered, trying and failing to not roll my eyes a little at Lauren's embellishment. She'd made it out like I'd gone off to go make out with someone in their car. "It was really interesting."

"Well," Mike paused, carefully reassessing the situation as he watched our camaraderie, and seemed satisfied that Jacob wasn't a creep and I was fine. "We're packing up- it looks like it's going to rain soon."

We all looked up at the glowering sky. It certainly did look like rain. What a surprise.

"Okay." I jumped up. "I'm coming." I didn't want us all to get caught out on the rocky beach in the rain; we'd kill ourselves slipping on wet stones.

"It was nice to see you again," Jacob said almost shyly. I could see he was intimidated by the slightly overbearing presence of Mike and Jess, who probably seemed even older than me to him.

"It really was. Next time Charlie comes down to see Billy, I'll come, too," I promised.

His grin stretched across his face. "That would be cool."

"And thanks," I added earnestly.

I pulled up my hood as we tramped across the rocks toward the parking lot. A few drops were beginning to fall, making black spots on the stones where they landed. When we got to the Suburban the others were already loading everything back in. I crawled into the backseat by Angela and Tyler, announcing that I'd already had my turn in the shotgun position crammed up against the window. Angela just stared out the window at the escalating storm, and Lauren twisted around in the middle seat to occupy Tyler 's attention, so I could simply lay my head back on the seat and close my eyes. The sun had completely disappeared, and it was almost entirely dark out. The imagery driving home would have just made me melancholy, so I kept my eyes closed the entire ride back to Forks and didn't open them until the Suburban was back at the Newtons' store.


	7. Chapter 7

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**7. Nightmare  
**

I told Charlie I had a lot of homework to do after our quick dinner of leftovers from a day or two ago. I just reheated them in the microwave, we sat down for about ten minutes, and that was that. There was a basketball game on that he was excited about, though of course I had no idea what was special about it, so he wasn't aware of anything unusual in my face or tone. I didn't follow sports, which probably didn't come as a surprise to anyone. Once in my room, I locked the door. I dug through my desk until I found my old headphones, and I plugged them into my little CD player. I picked up a CD that Phil had  
given to me for Christmas. It was one of his favorite bands, but I'd had my doubts about whether I'd have the same tastes as a man in his early thirties. I popped it into place and lay down on my bed. I put on the headphones, hit Play, and turned up the volume until it hurt my ears. I closed my eyes and concentrated very carefully on the music, trying to understand the lyrics, to unravel the complicated drum patterns. By the third time I'd listened through the CD, I knew all the words to the choruses, at least. I was surprised to find that I really did like the band after all, once I got past the blaring noise. I'd have to thank Phil again. Maybe he did sort of understand me.

And it worked. The shattering beats made it impossible for me to think- which was the whole purpose of the exercise. I listened to the CD again and again, until I was singing along with all the songs, until, finally, I fell asleep. I was hoping that by doing this ritual, I wouldn't have nightmares or even dream at all. I'd done it before, whenever I couldn't sleep or wasn't satisfied with the sleep I was getting, especially if it involved bad dreams. I hadn't had dreams this bad since I was a little girl, and it was more than a bit disturbing.

Listening to the CD didn't help at all. Of course it didn't. Just my luck, right?

I opened my eyes to a familiar place. Aware in some corner of my consciousness that I was dreaming, I recognized the murky green light of the forest. I could hear the waves crashing against the rocks somewhere nearby. And I knew that if I found the ocean, I'd be able to see the sun. I was trying to follow the sound, but then Jacob Black was there, tugging on my hand, pulling me back toward the blackest, deepest part of the forest.

"Jacob? What's wrong?" I asked. His face was frightened as he yanked with all his strength against my resistance; I didn't want to go into the dark green, where the trees all blended into each other and their branches seems to sigh and gasp as they rustled.

"Run, Bella, you have to run!" he whispered, terrified.

"This way, Bella!" I recognized some of my friends' voices calling out of the gloomy heart of the trees, but I couldn't see any of them.

"Why?" I asked, still pulling against Jacob's grasp, desperate now to find the sun. I felt weak without it. The trees blocked out almost the entire sky. The sound of the waves was fading away, to my horror. No! I had to get to the ocean!

But Jacob let go of my hand and yelped, suddenly shaking, falling to the dim forest floor.

He twitched on the ground as I watched in horror, convulsing and trembling like he was having a seizure, pupils dilated in wide, unseeing eyes, mouth open in a silent scream of pain. I screamed at the sight of him in such a state. He looked like he was dying.

"Bella, run!" I heard my friends screaming again, before the sound was swallowed up by the forest.

I thought I saw a light in the trees ahead. Hoping it was help of some sort, I took several steps toward it, but it wasn't help at all. It was Edward. His eyes were huge and black and terrifying. "Come here," he said slowly and gently, as if talking to a small, frightened child. "I won't hurt you." He beckoned me towards him.

I shook my head and stumbled back into the undergrowth, tripping over a tree root. It figured that even in my dreams I was clumsy. "Stay away from me," I warned him in a trembling voice.

"Don't you trust me?" he asked innocently. He smiled widely at me and I realized his teeth were sharp, pointed, and stained red with blood. It dribbled out of his mouth, but he didn't seem to even notice as it trickled down his pale chin.

I shrieked and scrambled backwards, bumping into the trunk of a tree. There was a haunting howl, like that of a wolf, and the sound of something huge running through the bushes. Edward snarled like an animal and seemed to look away from me and at something else, but before I could see what it was, I woke up, wrenching upright out of my bed with a loud gasp.

My sudden movement caused the headphones to pull the CD player off my night table, and it clattered on the wooden floor. One of the batteries skittered out of it. My light was still on, and I'd forgotten to change my clothes, just having taken off my jacket and my boots. My jeans and shirt were a winkled mess. I groaned softly and glanced, disoriented, at the clock on my dresser. It was five-thirty in the morning.

I fell back and rolled over onto my face with a muffled whimper. It wasn't light outside yet, so maybe I could just drift back off… I was too uncomfortable to get anywhere near sleep, though. I rolled back over and unbuttoned my jeans, yanking them off awkwardly as I tried to stay horizontal. I almost fell off the bed, reminding myself why I hated skinny jeans like these and preferred the baggier, less fitted ones that were quickly going out of style. I could feel the braid in my hair, an uncomfortable ridge along the back of my skull. I turned onto my side and ripped the rubber band out, quickly combing through the plaits with my fingers. I pulled the pillow back over my eyes.

Last night had been too weird. It'd been fun, and I'd enjoyed myself for the most part, but I couldn't stop thinking about Jacob's story. It hadn't been _that _scary, but something about it got to me, kept his words ringing over and over in my head. My nightmare last night had only made it worse. It seemed like every time I even thought about Edward now, I saw blood. Not him bleeding, but him drinking it, greedily, pale lips dyed crimson, it coating his teeth, making his entire chin slick with red… If I thought about it anymore my stomach would start churning. I sat up with a small shudder. First things first, I needed to take a shower. I felt filthy. I hadn't even washed my hands or face since yesterday, and I was pretty sure I might have leaves in my hair. I grabbed my bathroom bag.

The shower didn't last nearly as long as I hoped it would, though. Even taking the time to blow-dry my hair, I was soon out of things to do in the bathroom. Wrapped in a towel, I crossed back to my room. I couldn't tell if Charlie was still asleep, or if he had already left. I went to look out my window, and the cruiser was gone. Fishing again. For once I felt a bit disappointed that I had the house to myself. His company might have distracted me from my tangled thoughts.

I dressed slowly in my most comfy sweats and then made my bed- something I never did. I went to my desk and switched on my old computer. I hated using the internet here. My modem was sadly outdated, my free service substandard; just dialing up took so long that I decided to go get myself a bowl of cereal while I waited.

I ate slowly, chewing each bite with care. When I was done, I washed the bowl and spoon, dried them, and put them away. Usually I left them in the sink for later. Today I was desperate for any sort of busywork that might keep me preoccupied. My feet dragged as I climbed the stairs. They groaned dismally with each step I took, only adding to my mood.

I went to my CD player first, picking it up off the floor, stuffing the missing battery back in, and placing it precisely in the center of the table. I pulled out the headphones, and put them away in the desk drawer. Then I turned the same CD on, turning it down to the point where it was background noise.

_On this bed I lay, losing everything/I can see my life passing me by/Was it all too much/Or just not enough/Wake me up, I'm living a nightmare…_

With another sigh, I turned to my computer. Naturally, the screen was covered in pop-up ads. I sat in my hard folding chair and began closing all the little windows. Eventually I made it to my favorite search engine. I shot down a few more pop-ups and then typed in one word.

_Vampire_.

It took an infuriatingly long time, of course. When the results came up, there was a lot to sift through- everything from movies and TV shows to role-playing games, underground metal, and gothic cosmetic companies. Then I found a promising site- Vampires A-Z. I waited impatiently for it to load; quickly clicking closed each ad that flashed across the screen.

Finally the screen was finished- simple white background with black text, academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the home page:

_Throughout the vast shadowy world of ghosts and demons there is no figure so terrible, no figure so dreaded and abhorred, yet dight with such fearful fascination, as the vampire, who is himself neither ghost nor demon, but yet who partakes the dark natures and possesses the mysterious and terrible qualities of both_. - Rev. Montague Summers

_If there is in this world a well-attested account, it is that of the vampires. Nothing is lacking: official reports, affidavits of well-known people, of surgeons, of priests, of  
magistrates; the judicial proof is most complete. And with all that, who is there who believes in vampires?_ – Rousseau

I had to hold back a snicker. Okay, _sure. _I'd never seen any scientific studies published proving the existence of vampires. I wonder why? I really hoped this wasn't a bunch of BS claims about seeing men in capes turn into bats or something.

Luckily, the rest of the site was an alphabetized listing of all the different myths of vampires held throughout the world. The first I clicked on, the Danag, was a Filipino vampire supposedly responsible for planting taro on the islands long ago. The myth continued that the Danag worked with humans for many years, but the partnership ended one day when a woman cut her finger and a Danag sucked her wound, enjoying the taste so much that it drained her body completely of blood.

I read carefully through the descriptions, looking for anything that sounded familiar, let alone plausible. It seemed that most vampire myths centered around beautiful women as demons and children as victims; they also seemed like constructs created to explain away the high mortality rates for young children, and to give men an excuse for infidelity. Many of the stories involved bodiless spirits and warnings against improper burials. There wasn't much that sounded like the movies I'd seen, and only a very few, like the Hebrew Estrie and the Polish Upier, who were even preoccupied with drinking blood. Only three entries really caught my attention: the Romanian Varacolaci, a powerful undead being who could appear as a beautiful, pale-skinned human, the Slovak Nelapsi, a creature so strong and fast it could massacre an entire village in the single hour after midnight, and one other, the Stregoni benefici.

About this last there was only one brief sentence. _Stregoni benefici: An Italian vampire, said to be on the side of goodness, and a mortal enemy of all evil vampires_.

I raised my eyebrows. I'd never heard anything about good vampires before.

Overall, though, there was little that coincided with Jacob's stories or my own observations about the Cullens, specifically Edward. I'd made a little catalogue in my mind as I'd read and carefully compared it with each myth. Speed, strength, ridiculously good-looking, pale skin, eyes that shift color; and then Jacob's criteria: blood drinkers, enemies of the werewolf, cold-skinned, and immortal. There were very few myths that matched even one factor.

And then another problem, one that I'd remembered from the small number of scary movies that I'd seen and was backed up by today's reading- vampires couldn't come out in the daytime, the sun would burn them to a cinder. They slept in coffins all day and came out only at night.

Aggravated, I snapped off the computer's main power switch, not waiting to shut things down properly. Through my irritation, I felt overwhelming embarrassment. It was all so stupid. I was sitting in my room, researching vampires. What was wrong with me? The Cullens weren't vampires, they were just weird, and Jacob hadn't even been serious. It was obvious he took the whole legend as a joke. I decided that most of the blame belonged on the doorstep of the town of Forks- and the entire sodden Olympic Peninsula, for that matter. I'd never felt compelled to research the supernatural like some sort of crackpot paranormal investigator in Phoenix.

I had to get out of the house, but there was nowhere I wanted to go that didn't involve a three-day drive. I pulled on my boots anyway, unclear where I was headed, and went downstairs. I shrugged into my raincoat without checking the weather and stomped out the door.

It was overcast, but not raining yet. I ignored my truck and started east on foot, angling across Charlie's yard toward the ever-encroaching forest. It didn't take long till I was deep enough for the house and the road to be invisible, for the only sound to be the squish of the damp earth under my feet and the sudden cries of the jays.

There was a thin ribbon of a trail that led through the forest here, or I wouldn't risk wandering on my own like this. My sense of direction was hopeless; I could get lost in much less helpful surroundings. The trail wound deeper and deeper into the forest, mostly east as far as I could tell. It snaked around the Sitka spruces and the hemlocks, the yews and the maples. I only vaguely knew the names of the trees around me, and all I knew was due to Charlie pointing them out to me from the cruiser window in earlier days. There were many I didn't know, and others I couldn't be sure about because they were so covered in green parasites.

I followed the trail as long as my anger at myself and agitation with Forks in general pushed me forward. As that started to ebb, I slowed. A few drops of moisture trickled down from the canopy above me, but I couldn't be certain if it was beginning to rain or if it was simply pools left over from yesterday, held high in the leaves above me, slowly dripping their way back to the earth. Either way, it bugged me. I scowled up at the green leaves, and got pegged in the eye with another drop of water in retaliation. Even the freaking forest hated me.

A recently fallen tree- I knew it was recent because it wasn't entirely carpeted in moss- rested against the trunk of one of her sisters, creating a sheltered little bench just a few safe feet off the trail. I stepped over the ferns and sat carefully, making sure my jacket was between the damp seat and my clothes wherever they touched, and leaned my hooded head back against the living tree. The sensation of being against something that seemed practically breathing was creepy.

This was the wrong place to have come. But where else was I supposed to go? I couldn't stand pacing around in that house like a restless animal in a cage any longer. The birds had quieted, and the forest was nearly silent, making me uneasy. I could still hear the annoying trickle of water, so it must have been drizzling very lightly. The ferns around me were taller than my head when I sat. I felt like I had shrunk down to the size of a small child, dwarfed by the massive trees and ferns.

Nature has a way of lowering my self esteem.

After a few more minutes of sulking, I forced myself to focus on the two most vital questions I had to answer, but I did so unwillingly. First, I had to decide if it was possible that what Jacob had said about the Cullens could be true. Immediately my mind responded with a resounding _no, you idiot_. But there was no rational explanation for how I was alive at this moment. I listed again in my head the things I'd observed myself: the impossible speed and strength, the eye color shifting from black to gold and back again, the inhuman good looks, the pale, frigid skin. And more- small things that registered slowly- how they rarely even blinked or shifted in their seats, or sneezed or yawned or coughed, the graceful, yet seemingly restrained way they moved, as if they were holding back. And the way Edward sometimes spoke, with unfamiliar cadences and phrases that better fit the style of a turn-of-the-century novel than that of a twenty-first-century classroom. He had skipped class the day we'd done blood typing. Coincidence? He hadn't said no to the beach trip till he heard where we were going. He seemed to know what everyone around him was thinking... except me.

Well, the Cullens were something. _They're something alright_, I mocked in my head. Something outside the possibility of rational justification was taking place in front of my incredulous eyes. Whether it be Jacob's cold ones or my own superpowers theory, Edward Cullen and his freakish family were not... human. Not entirely human, at least.

So what now?

Well, he was driving me to Seattle. That was for sure. I couldn't share my crazy theories with anyone else- I'd be committed on the spot. So, I was going to have to resolve to wait and watch. Edward hadn't done anything to harm me… yet. My nightmare was certainly making me question things. If he tried to drink my blood or something, that was going to be the final straw. I'd sic Charlie and the entire Forks police force on him… assuming I managed to escape. My mind was spinning so fast I was considering wearing garlic around my neck next time I saw him. I laughed aloud at that thought. Did garlic even work against vampires? What about crucifixes and holy water?

But that would be me believing that he was a vampire…. which I didn't believe. Not really, anyways. I had no actual evidence.

The rain was picking up a bit, coming down harder through the leaves, and the clouds must have darkened, because it had grown even dimmer. No longer comfortable just sitting here off the trail all by myself, I hurriedly jumped up. I was almost scared the trail had been washed away. But it was there, safe and clear, winding its way out of this labyrinth. I followed it hastily, my hood pulled close around my face, becoming surprised, as I nearly ran through the trees, at how far I had come. I started to wonder if I was heading out at all, or following the path farther into the confines of the forest. Before I could get too panicky, though, I began to glimpse some open spaces through the webbed branches. And then I could hear a car passing on the street, and I was free, Charlie's lawn stretched out in front of me, the house beckoning me, promising warmth and dry socks. I practically burst out of the tree line, tripping on nothing and slipping on the wet grass.

It was just noon when I got back inside. I went upstairs and got dressed for the day, jeans and a t-shirt, since I was staying indoors. It didn't take too much effort to concentrate on my task for the day, a paper on Macbeth that was due Wednesday. I settled into outlining a rough draft contentedly, feeling a lot calmer than I had this morning.

That had always been my way, though. Making decisions was the painful part for me, the part I agonized over. But once the decision was made, I simply followed through- usually with relief that the choice was made. Sometimes the relief was tainted by despair and bitter anger, like my decision to come to Forks. But it was still better than wrestling with the alternatives.

I was going to just… wait and see. It was so easy. Almost too easy.

And so the day was quiet, productive- I finished my paper before eight. Charlie came home with a large catch, and I made a mental note to pick up a book of recipes for fish while I was in Seattle next week. I slept dreamlessly for once that night, to my surprise and relief. I woke, for the second time since arriving in Forks, to the bright yellow light of a sunny day. I skipped to the window, stunned to see that there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and those there were just fleecy little white puffs that couldn't possibly be carrying any rain. I opened the window- surprised when it opened silently, without sticking, not having opened it in who knows how many years- and sucked in the relatively dry air. It was nearly warm and hardly windy at all. My blood was electric in my veins. It embarrasses me to say this… but I almost felt like dancing. Yes, me. Dancing. Just picture that horrifying image for a moment. Appreciate how ridiculously giddy this weather made me feel.

Charlie was finishing breakfast when I came downstairs with a spring in my step, and he picked up on my mood.

"Nice day out," he commented.

"Yes," I agreed with a grin.

He smiled back, his brown eyes crinkling around the edges. When Charlie smiled, it was easier to see why he and my mother had jumped too quickly into an early marriage. Most of the young romantic he'd been in those days had faded before I'd known him, as the curly brown hair- the same color, if not the same texture, as mine- had dwindled, slowly revealing more and more of the shiny skin of his forehead. But when he smiled I could see a little of the man who had run away with Mom when she was just two years older than I was now. Two crazy kids flying down the highways to Vegas, sure they were going to live happily ever after and get their fairy tale ending to their high school love story.

I ate breakfast quickly, scarfing it down like I hadn't eaten in days, watching the dust motes stirring in the sunlight that streamed in the back window. Charlie called out a goodbye, and I heard the cruiser pull away from the house. I hesitated on my way out the door, hand on my rain jacket. It would be tempting fate to leave it home. With a groan, I folded it over my arm and stepped out into the brightest light I'd seen in months.

By dint of much elbow grease, I was able to get both windows in the truck almost completely rolled down with minor huffing and puffing. I turned on the radio, but then I remembered what had happened the last time I was listening to the radio with the windows down and thought better of it. I was one of the first ones to school; I hadn't even checked the clock in my hurry to get outside. I parked and headed toward the seldom-used picnic benches on the south side of the cafeteria. The benches were still a little damp, so I sat on my jacket, glad to have a use for it. My homework was done, though I was pretty sure I'd gotten more than a few of my Trig wrong. I debated going over them but ended up sketching inattentively along the margins of my homework. After a few minutes, I suddenly realized I'd drawn five pairs of dark eyes staring out of the page at me. I scrubbed them out with the eraser, scowling at the smudges.

"Bella!" I heard someone call, and it sounded like Mike. I looked around to realize that the school had become populated while I'd been sitting there, absentminded. Everyone was in t-shirts, some even in shorts though the temperature couldn't be over sixty. Mike was coming toward me in khaki shorts and a striped Rugby shirt, waving.

"Hey, Mike," I called, waving back, unable to be halfhearted on a morning like this. He came to sit by me, his tidy spikes of blond hair practically glowing in the sunshine.

There was a moment of silence. I shifted awkwardly.

"So… yeah," he began slowly. "Jess and I went out on a date over the weekend."

I smiled slowly. "Oh really? Where?"

He went reddish and stared at his sneakers. "Just to breakfast at the diner. It was cool. We threw fries at each other and stuff, and almost got kicked out."

"You had _fries _for breakfast?" I asked in a tone of mock horror.

"And milkshakes," he retorted, glancing back up at me, brightening.

I laughed aloud, another product of my exceptionally chipper mood, and we walked to class together, passing Jess and Angela going the other way. I noticed the way Jess tucked a dark ringlet of hair behind her ear upon spotting him and Mike took his hands out his short pockets and straightened up. They exchanged looks while Angela and I shared an amused look of her own.

When I saw Jessica again in Trig, she was bubbling with enthusiasm. She, Angela, and Lauren were going to Port Angeles tonight to go dress shopping for the dance, and she wanted me to come, too, even though I didn't need one. I was indecisive. It would be nice to get out of town with some girlfriends, which would be a brand new experience, but Lauren would be there. And I'd just put up with her at First Beach; I wasn't sure if I was prepared to deal with her again so soon.

So I gave her a maybe, telling her I'd have to talk with Charlie first.

She talked of nothing but the dance on the way to Spanish, continuing as if without an interruption when class finally ended, five minutes late, and we were on our way to lunch. I, on the other hand, was almost embarrassingly eager to see not just him but all the Cullens- to observe them and pick apart their every action. Okay, so I was planning on being creepy. Just a little creepy, not like Edward-level creepy.

As was my routine, I glanced first toward the Cullens' table. It was empty. My eyes uneasily scoured the rest of the cafeteria, wondering if he was sitting alone again, waiting for me. The place was nearly filled- Spanish had made us late- but there was no sign of Edward or any of his family. Where were they?

I continued trailing after Jess, confused. They were almost always here. The rest of them had still been here, even when Edward wasn't. We were late enough that everyone was already at our table. I took the empty chair by Angela. I watched Mike hold the chair next to him out politely for Jessica, and her face light up in response.

Angela asked a few quiet questions about the Macbeth paper, which I answered as naturally as I could while my mind spiraled in confused circles. She, too, invited me to go with them tonight, and I distractedly agreed. The Cullens were gone, and nobody seemed to have noticed their absence at all except for me.

It was only when I was outside again, walking to Biology, when the thought hit me. I almost stopped walking, slowing down to a near halt. The Cullens weren't here. It was bright and sunny and warm out. The Cullens weren't here. _The sun was out, and they were gone._

Well, maybe it was just another coincidence. But it was an alarming one.

The rest of the day passed slowly. In Gym, we had a lecture on the rules of badminton, the next torture they had lined up for me. But at least it meant I got to sit and listen instead of stumbling around on the court. The best part was the coach didn't finish, so I got another day off tomorrow. Never mind that the day after they would arm me with a racket before unleashing me on the rest of the class.

I was glad to leave campus, since once I got home I could forget about all the thoughts about the Cullens and their possible aversion to sunshine buzzing around in my head. But right after I walked in the door of Charlie's house, Jessica called to cancel our plans. Mike had asked her out to dinner and a movie in a nearby town that night last minute, and of course she wanted to go with him. She rescheduled our shopping trip for tomorrow night.

I sighed once I got off the phone, just a little disappointed but unwilling to admit it to myself. I spent a focused hour on homework, but then I was through with that, too. I checked my e-mail, reading the backlog of letters from my mother, getting snippier as they progressed to the present. I rolled my eyes and typed a quick response.

_Mom,  
Sorry. I've been out. I went to the beach with some friends. And I had to write a paper._

My excuses were fairly pathetic, so I gave up on that.

_It's sunny outside today- I know, I'm shocked, too- so I'm going to go outside and soak  
up as much vitamin D as I can. _

_I love you,  
Bella._

I decided to kill another hour or two with non-school-related reading. I had a small collection of books that came with me to Forks, the shabbiest volume being a compilation of the works of Jane Austen. I selected that one and a few others and headed to the backyard, grabbing a ragged old quilt from the linen cupboard at the top of the stairs on my way down.

Outside in Charlie's small, square yard, I folded the quilt in half and laid it out of the reach of the trees' shadows on the thick lawn that would always be slightly wet, no matter how long the sun shone. I lay on my stomach, crossing my ankles in the air, flipping through the different novels in the book, trying to decide which would occupy my mind the most thoroughly. My favorites were _Pride and Prejudice_ and _Sense and Sensibility_.

I'd read the first most recently, so I started into _Sense and Sensibility_, only to remember after I began that the hero of the story happened to be named Edward. Angrily, I turned to Mansfield Park, but the hero of that piece was named Edmund, and that was just too close. Weren't there any other names available in the late eighteenth century? I snapped the book shut, annoyed, and rolled over onto my back. I grabbed another book. Stephen King's _Bag of Bones_. Much better. I read and read, under the warm sun, the breeze occasionally rustling the pages of the book and my usually limp hair. It tickled my face, but I focused on the book, until I started to nod off a bit, and eventually fell asleep, still holding onto the book. I doubted I slept long enough to dream- maybe fifteen or twenty minutes at the most, and the next thing I was conscious of was the sound of Charlie's cruiser turning onto the bricks of the driveway. I sat up in surprise, realizing the light was gone, behind the trees. Already? It seemed like I only napped for a short while... I looked around, muddled, with the weird feeling that I wasn't alone.

"Charlie?" I asked. But I could hear his door slamming in front of the house.

I jumped up, for some reason suddenly on edge, gathering the now-damp quilt and my book. I ran inside to get some oil heating on the stove. Dinner was going to be late. Charlie was hanging up his gun belt and stepping out of his boots when I came in.

"Sorry, Dad, dinner's not ready yet- I fell asleep outside." I stifled a yawn.

"Don't worry about it," he said. "I wanted to catch the score on the game, anyway."

I watched TV with Charlie after dinner. There wasn't anything on I wanted to watch, but he knew I didn't like baseball, so he turned it to some mindless sitcom that neither of us really enjoyed. He seemed happy, though, to be doing something together. And I was sort of happy too, not in an electric way like this morning… but a content way. This was okay.

"Dad," I said during a commercial, "Jessica and Angela are going to look at dresses for the dance tomorrow night in Port Angeles, and they wanted me to help them choose... do you mind if I go with them?"

"Jessica Stanley?" he asked.

"And Angela Weber." I explained as I gave him the details. I figured I should sort of ask, since he was used to me handling dinner, and this would leave him by himself for the evening.

He was confused. "But you're not going to the dance, right?"

"No, Dad, but I'm helping them find dresses- you know, giving them constructive criticism." I wouldn't have to explain this to a woman.

"Well, okay." He seemed to realize that he was out of his depth with the girly stuff. "It's a school night, though." he reminded me, as I was ten and begging to stay up past my bedtime.

"We'll leave right after school, so we can get back early. You'll be okay for dinner, right?" I pressed.

"Bells, I fed myself for seventeen years before you got here," he pointed out dryly, sounding almost exactly like me when I was exasperated.

"I don't know how you survived," I muttered, then added more clearly, "I'll leave some things for cold-cut sandwiches in the fridge, okay? Right on top."

It was sunny again in the morning. I dressed for the warmer weather in a deep blue V-neck blouse- something I'd worn in the dead of winter in Phoenix. I wasn't as early as usual, and I noticed that the silver Volvo was once again missing as I circled the parking lot looking for a spot.

I parked in the last row and hurried to English, arriving breathless before the final bell.

The Port Angeles scheme was back on again for tonight and made all the more attractive by the fact that Lauren had other obligations. It was like it was my birthday or something. I vowed to myself that I would be in a good mood tonight and not ruin Angela's or Jessica's enjoyment in the dress hunting. Maybe I could do a little clothes shopping as well. I refused to think that I might be shopping alone in Seattle this weekend. He'd said he would drive me and that was that. If I had to hunt him down myself, by God, he was taking me to Seattle. I hadn't put with all his bullshit for him to just cancel on me.

After school, Jessica followed me home in her old white Mercury so that I could ditch my books and truck. I brushed through my hair quickly when I was inside, feeling a slight lift of excitement as I contemplated getting out of Forks. I left a note for Charlie on the table, explaining again where to find dinner, just in case he'd forgot, switched my scruffy wallet from my school bag to a purse I rarely used, and ran out to join Jessica. We went to Angela's house next, and she was waiting for us. My excitement increased exponentially as we actually drove out of the town limits. This was like an actual adventure or something. I rolled down my window and kept my eyes on the shining sun.


End file.
